


Twinning Isn't Everything

by SweetnessEverglory



Series: Prince of Gotham [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Daddy Kink, Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Gunplay, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Master/Pet, Oral Fixation, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Shower Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Jeremiah Valeska, Top Jerome Valeska, Underage Sex, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetnessEverglory/pseuds/SweetnessEverglory
Summary: Jerome and Jeremiah both have an unusual fixation with Bruce Wayne. Jerome never fell to his death, but Jeremiah already became crazy from the Laughing Gas. The Valeska twins can hate each other all they want, but who knew they'd make such a good team when it comes to getting what they both want. Bruce.





	1. Stuck Between Part 1: Twins

**Author's Note:**

> \- first time writing smut, hope it went well and wasn't real sure on how to tag  
> \- I don't really watch Gotham but I've seen bits and pieces and really like Jerome/Bruce or Jeremiah/Bruce  
> \- Jerome ain't dead and Jeremiah is crazy from the Laughing Gas and Bruce is caught in the middle. Literally  
> \- Bruce is probably fifteen during this

If someone had told Bruce Wayne a few months ago that he’d be stuck between Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska in an intimate position, like lovers, he’d have told them to go straight to Arkham Asylum. Now, he was literally stuck between them. His back was pressed against Jerome’s bare chest while Jeremiah was at his front, both pressed tightly against him and absolutely no chance of escape. Both Valeskas had seen to that. He didn’t know whether Alfred was alive or not, as the brothers had broken into Wayne Manor without a warning and who knows what they had done to the butler, and they had come straight after him.

His wrists were held in Jerome’s firm grip, and said redhead sat snugly behind him, his lap pressed against Bruce’s bottom and Bruce flinched when he felt the obvious hard-on the redhead was sporting. Jerome was pressing butterfly soft kisses along his neck, jawline, and sucked on the back of his ear, licking the shell and causing the younger boy to whimper. “Does our Brucie like that?” Jerome asked and Bruce felt the grin on Jerome‘s lips as he sucked almost dutifully on his neck. Bruce hated the fact that there was heat pooling in the pit of his stomach as his own pants began to feel uncomfortably tight. “Careful, Jerome, you might make him cum too early in the game,” Jeremiah said, an equally crazed smile on his own ruby red lips. 

Bruce visibly flinched when Jeremiah’s teeth found his zipper and began pulling it down slowly, almost sensually. He even managed to undo the button on Bruce’s jeans with his tongue. Jerome’s hands managed to find its way up Bruce’s shirt, calloused hands sliding up his belly and finding his sensitive buds. Bruce’s back arched, his hips pushing out and straight into Jeremiah’s hands, and he outright _whined_ when Jerome began playing with them, pulling and rubbing, and tasting his neck all the while. “Do you ever listen?” Jeremiah asked with exasperation as he began pulling Bruce’s pants down.

The young billionaire froze when he saw Jeremiah pull out a knife. Said green-haired Valeska smirked at the look on his face, cheeks flushed and brown eyes wide. “Oh, Bruce, if you want to have _that_ kind of fun you’ll have to wait,” he said as he began cutting away Bruce’s pants from his legs, tossing the torn clothing to the floor uncaringly. Bruce felt like crying when Jeremiah began pulling his boxers down, revealing his _little Bruce_ to the both of them. “I see little Brucie’s excited,” Jerome said with a gravelly chuckle as Jeremiah licked his lips.

Pre-cum was leaking from the tip as Jerome’s assault on his sensitive buds continued, making him gasp, arch, whine, and buck his hips upwards, unfortunately right into Jeremiah’s hands and—Bruce cried out when he felt that warm heat of Jeremiah’s _tongue_ on his member. The green-haired Valeska swirled his tongue around the pink tip, licking away the pre-cum that was overflowing now. “He’s always had an oral fixation, no matter how much he denies it,” Jerome said with a small laugh as Bruce watched Jeremiah roll his eyes and swallow his member with what was obviously practiced ease. Warm. Hot. Heavy. Jeremiah was sucking on it as though it was a lollipop. “Jer-Jeremiah!” Bruce cried out as Jeremiah gave a hard suck to it.

Bruce’s toes were curling and Jerome’s grip tightened as Bruce tried to pull his arms. He tried to close his thighs but Jerome’s legs held them apart as Jeremiah’s gloved hand began to fondle his balls. Heat was pooling in his gut and short, raspy whimpers and heavy moans escaped his lips. “Gon-Gonna...” he whined when Jeremiah’s other hand gripped the base of his cock, staving off his orgasm. It was like Jeremiah found his cock to be the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, and refused to let it go. As though it was pleasuring him rather than Bruce. “Jer-Jeremiah... please...” he begged. He’d never thought of begging before, especially for something like _this_ , but his mind was turning foggy and his thoughts into mush.

Jeremiah hummed in response and Bruce openly sobbed at the pleasure from the vibrations. “Oh, let him cum, you sadist,” Jerome said with obvious amusement. “You just want to fuck him,” Jeremiah retorted, pulling away from Bruce’s cock, which was now wet with saliva and had red lipstick on it. “Be that as it may, I’m very impatient,” Jerome said as he maneuvered Bruce’s arm and held both wrists with one hand in front of the brunette, in a firm grip that held an all too clear warning; fight and I'll break them.

Bruce could feel Jerome undoing his own pants and began shaking. Jeremiah leaned towards him and pressed their lips together. Bruce whimpered into his first kiss and gasped when he felt Jeremiah’s tongue poking his lips, which resulted in Jeremiah’s tongue going straight into his mouth. Jeremiah completely dominated the kiss, exploring Bruce’s mouth and poking at Bruce’s own tongue. Bruce had to fight the urge to bite Jeremiah’s tongue, as the knife was still in his mind. A gloved hand gripped his chin painfully, undoubtedly leaving bruises for later. Bruce looked up at the ceiling after Jeremiah finally let his lips go.

Jeremiah pulled off his gloves and lowered himself back down, spreading Bruce’s legs and using Jerome’s to hold them apart. Bruce cried out and tried to get away when he felt that same tongue travel past his balls and to his hole. “Forgot the lube, my ass,” he heard Jerome mutter in his ear as one of his hands traveled down to play with Bruce’s cock.

His body felt warm and heavy. “Wanna... wanna come... Jerome...” he yelped when he felt Jeremiah slap his inner thigh. It was not a painless slap. “He doesn’t get to tell you when to come, Bruce,” Jeremiah growled out before lapping at Bruce’s hole. Bruce’s breathing hitched when he felt Jeremiah’s finger began circling his rim. “Please...” please don’t? Please more? Bruce didn’t even know. Bright green eyes looked up at him and he could have sworn he saw Jeremiah grinning before he pressed the finger inside. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was a foreign feeling.

Bruce’s head fell back against Jerome’s shoulder as Jeremiah began exploring him with his finger, probing at his rim with his tongue, and licking at his hole. It soon turned uncomfortable when Jeremiah added a second finger and Bruce whined at it. “Oh, Brucie... do you have any idea how gorgeous you are right now?” Jerome’s voice was distant. Bruce sure as hell didn’t _feel_ gorgeous. God, what would Alfred say if he could see him right now? Or Detective Gordon? Bullock? Selina?

Those prodding fingers began stretching out his hole, the discomfort soon ebbing away once Jeremiah found exactly what he was looking for. Stars danced in Bruce’s eyes as he moaned like a wanton whore once Jeremiah found his sweet spot. “That’s the ticket...” Jerome chuckled in his ear as Jeremiah began his assault on Bruce’s sweet spot. The teen cried out, arched his back, bucked his hips, and tried to flail as Jeremiah relentlessly fingered him. His sweaty hair clung to his forehead, staining his turtleneck, the only clothing the twins left him in, and his toes curled into the sheets.

Soon a third finger was added and the stretch burned but it felt so _good_. “Please! Jeremiah!” he cried out. ”Oh, Bruce... this is just the beginning...” Jeremiah said with a small grin of his own as he added a fourth finger. The stretch hurt but the pain was overpowered by the pleasure. All four of those fingers stretched him out and his thighs quivered against Jerome’s. Those fingers were pulled away and Bruce whined at that, hating himself for it. “We agreed, little brother,” Jerome said. ”You put the offer on the table, I never agreed to it,” Jeremiah said in a sharp voice. “Well, it’ll hurt our precious Brucie too much at the same time,” Jerome pointed out. “Wow, who knew you could think,” Jeremiah said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve known him longer than you,” Jerome said. “That’s not my fault,” were they seriously fighting over...  Bruce shivered as Jerome’s hand found its way to his throat. “Either I start out, and you join after, or this ends bloodily,” Jerome wasn’t bluffing, Bruce and Jeremiah knew that. “You got to taste him first, twice. Actually thrice, you bastard,” Jerome added. “Deal.”

Bruce was shaking as both twins lifted him up, as though he was no heavier than a ragdoll, and he stiffened when he felt the head of Jerome’s cock pressing against him. “If you clench, it’ll hurt more,” he tried to relax, he really did, but he was afraid and ashamed. He knew it would hurt more if he tried to fight them, but was it still reasonable to willingly give Jerome Valeska his virginity? He killed so many people, ruined the lives of others, and made his own brother insane with the Laughing Gas. The man killed his own mom. Then that man, Uncle Zack, in the diner that night Bruce met him. “Jer--” he cried out when he felt the head pushing in. He tried to get away but Jerome’s grip on his hips was tight and Jeremiah was in the way. It _hurt_.

Even though Jeremiah had used four fingers, he could feel Jerome’s cock stretching his hole and just like that, almost like a literal pop, Bruce was no longer a virgin. “He’s so beautiful,” Jeremiah whispered as he pressed his lips against Bruce’s. If Jerome was that big, and Jeremiah was the same... Bruce wasn’t sure he could handle it. “Hurts...” he whimpered out. ”Oh, Brucie...” Jerome whispered, peppering his neck with kisses. Finally, Jerome stopped, his entire cock sheathed inside of Bruce. “Happy?” Jeremiah asked bitterly. “Ecstatic...” Jerome groaned. Inside of Bruce was tighter than any woman, and warmer too.

Suddenly, Jeremiah’s fingers were back at Bruce’s hole. “N-no... please...” Bruce begged. “Shh,” Jerome turned Bruce’s head so that he was facing him instead of Jeremiah. “You look like a painted whore,” Jerome said with a faint chuckle. “I heard that,” Jeremiah said as his fingers made their way inside, stretching Bruce out even further. It burned even though Jerome was stroking his cock, getting his hand sticky with the overflowing pre-cum. Everything after that was a haze, until he heard Jeremiah undoing his own pants.

It burned painfully when Jeremiah began pushing in. “Full...” Bruce cried and Jerome simply pressed their lips together, swallowing his pained cries in a sloppy kiss. Jeremiah was slow and was soon sheathed, just like Jerome. Jerome’s hand found Bruce’s stomach, which was slightly distended from being so full and Bruce’s cock twitched from the pleasure that came from it being touched and massaged. “So... tight...” Jeremiah ground out. Bruce managed to get used to it despite the burning sensation, but then they began moving.

Jeremiah was slow and sensual whereas Jerome was fast and brutal. He quickly realized that Jerome liked quick fucks and wasn’t as much of a sexual sadist as Jeremiah was, and Jeremiah liked to draw it out and was a total cock tease. When one cock was inside, the other was out, one quick and the other slow. No matter what, his sweet spot was being hit and he was moaning like a million-dollar whore all the while. Jerome was holding one of his hands while Jeremiah clutched the other and pressed it against the wall. Jeremiah’s other hand was playing with Bruce’s swollen cock, which was leaking pre-cum, sticking to his skin, and soiling the sheets, while Jerome massaged Bruce’s stomach. “Please!” Bruce moaned out as he felt his orgasm approaching. ”It’s his first time, little J,” Jerome groaned out. “Fine...” Jeremiah panted out, green hair sticking to his forehead, his pale skin flushed.

Bruce’s back made a perfect arch as his hips jutted forward as Jeremiah stroked him to completion. Sweet relief and release found him as he orgasmed, white coming out of his cock in thick streams. He clenched around the cocks inside of him and Jerome groaned as he followed Bruce, and Jeremiah growled into Bruce’s neck, leaving a large love-bite in the boy’s skin under his jaw. They both filled him up to the brim, and Bruce fell back onto Jerome in a sweaty heap. “You know...” Jeremiah said somewhat breathlessly. “I think this calls for a round two,” round two? Round two?! Bruce began to rapidly shake his head and Jerome chuckled behind him. “Oh, Brucie. You didn’t think we were here for a quick fuck, did you?” he didn’t want them there in the first place. “Where’s... where’s...?” he couldn’t even ask, feeling to ashamed of himself. He’d begged for release from these two. How could he look anyone in the eyes again? Alfred above all? “Oh, he’s fine. For an old man, the son of a bitch packs a real punch,” Jerome said and Bruce almost felt relief. “What do you want?” Bruce asked as Jerome began kissing up and down his neck again, inhaling his scent. There was no answer, except Jeremiah’s grin which was probably matching Jerome’s. “Sweet dreams, Brucie,” and with that, all he remembered was a sweet smell before we was swept away by the sweet comfort of darkness. Sometimes twinning wasn’t everything, usually in the Valeska brothers’ case, but when it was? It was hell. For Bruce Wayne most of all.


	2. House of Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce runs away from Jerome and hides in the mirror house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- For Simply_logic's request  
> \- Set during S3 Ep 14. Not sure how old Bruce was then, or even Jerome for that matter. I didn't know at first that Bruce was 12 in the pilot of S1  
> \- Lines n' quotes from S3 Ep 14

Bruce had managed to escape from Jerome and was in the mirror house and the redhead had officially ruined carnivals for him. The makeup on Bruce’s face was smeared as he tried to wipe it away, and he froze when he heard Jerome’s taunting voice. “Oh, Brucie,” he hid as quickly and quietly as he could, hoping the authorities could get to him before Jerome did. “You ruined my show, Bruce. Hiding’s just gonna make things worse,” he saw Jerome’s many reflections and flinched. Soon Jerome was laughing. “I hafta tell ya. This is way more fun than I was expecting,” he giggled insanely. “You killed Alfred!” Bruce ran as Jerome fired another shot, shattering another mirror. “Is that what this is about? Yeesh. Are all rich kids this close with their butlers?” another shot and another broken mirror. 

“This is about doing what’s right,” Bruce said. “You wanna be a hero? Tell you what, buddy. I’ll give you a fighting chance. Let’s do this mono y mono. My little conquistador. Come on. Come on,” irrationally, Bruce tackled him from behind. “What kind of hero tackles someone from behind?” Jerome asked as he crawled forward, grappling for the knife, before slamming his heel straight into Bruce’s face, sending the teen backwards. 

Before Bruce even had a chance to get back up, Jerome was on top of him, the knife in one hand as he grabbed Bruce’s wrist with the other, that same grin on his grotesque face. The sharpness of the blade was what struck fear into the pit of Bruce’s gut, which might be the same place Jerome might decide to stick it if he felt like it. “Now, now, Brucie boy, you’ve been rather naughty, haven’t you?” Jerome asked with that same twisted grin. “Get off!” Bruce tried to punch him with his free hand but Jerome backhanded him across the face. He spat out blood onto the ground, the taste of iron revolting to him. “Now, what should I do with you? I could carve you up—” Bruce’s eyes widened with fear. “Nah... I’d feel inclined to make some kind of pattern and then you’d probably be all pissy,” the gun was on the floor, inches away... Bruce wouldn’t even have to kill him, maybe just take out his knee. “I see that little eye of yours, Brucie. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the threat was there as the knife trailed down his cheek, the sting of a cut fresh and almost there. 

Suddenly, Jerome’s grin managed to grow without pulling his stapled face back off. “With or without the turtleneck? I gotta tell ya, I really like that turtleneck,” Bruce wasn’t sure what the hell he was talking about, but he knew he wouldn’t like it either way. Jerome licked his teeth and his lips as he lowered his face to Bruce’s, his breath ghosting over Bruce’s ear, causing the teen to shiver. What was he doing? Was this supposed to be torture? Drawing it out? “Brucie...” the knife trailed downwards, rubbing against his shirt until it stopped... at the hem of his pants? 

Realization almost made him sick to his stomach as he aimed a punch for Jerome’s face. He didn’t get far. Jerome’s fist struck his cheek, making him spit up more blood and quite possibly a tooth, and both hands were held above his head in Jerome’s grip. “The more you fight, the worse it’s gonna be, Brucie,” Jerome promised. “Don’t do this... not this...” Bruce pleaded but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Jerome popped the button from his pants with the knife and pulled the zipper down. 

With only one hand, Jerome pulled down his pants, revealing Bruce’s boxers. “Silky, me likey,” Jerome said with that same crazed grin. Jerome maneuvered himself so that his knees were on the ground, his own groin nearly pressing against Bruce’s and he grabbed the gun, dropping the knife next to his leg. “You fight, I take your knee. You fight some more. BANG--” Bruce jumped at that. “There went the other one. Keep fighting. There went your arms,” Bruce nodded hesitantly, feeling the urge to cry. Was he really going to roll over easily like this? Even if he could hold his own in a fight against Jerome, the redhead had the gun in his hand and Bruce’s wrists in the other. “Now, is my Brucie going to be a good boy?” Jerome asked. Bruce nodded, dread pooling in his gut. “Good boy,” was all Jerome said before his lips were on Bruce’s. 

He could feel the permanent grin that was etched onto Jerome’s disfigured face and the redhead’s lips were smooth and his tongue, which was probing at Bruce’s lips, was wet. Jerome shoved his tongue into Bruce’s mouth, swallowing the whimper the teen made and exploring his mouth, stealing and dominating Bruce’s first kiss. Bruce felt his boxers being pulled down past his knees along with his pants and he’d never felt more exposed. “Puberty’s hit you like a brick,” Jerome said with a small, crazed laugh as he pulled away. Bruce’s lips felt wet and Jerome tossed the gun aside. “Suck ‘em,” he pressed his gloved hands to Bruce’s lips and dutifully Bruce let them go into his mouth, hating himself for it. God, what would Alfred say? 

“There we go... nice and wet...” Jerome deemed his fingers wet enough and pulled them away and Bruce almost wished he hadn’t. Jerome lifted his hips up and his fingers found Bruce’s... “NO!” Bruce cried out, trying to buck him off but it only succeeded in pressing their groins together, causing his pants to turn somewhat tighter, much to his embarrassment, and Jerome groaned in response. “That was strangely pleasant. Do that again,” Bruce refused. “Bruce...” he openly cried at the warning in his voice. It was like a siren song and he was too afraid of the consequences if he didn’t listen to it. 

Bruce hesitantly lifted his hips again, their groins pressed together, and Jerome ground them together, causing Bruce’s cock to twitch and the bulge in Jerome’s white pants was unmistakable. “Such a good little boy,” Jerome grinned as his finger circled Bruce’s rim, teasing it. It felt strangely pleasant, and Bruce hated that. “Please... don’t...” he begged but it didn’t matter. His breathing hitched when that finger found its way... up inside. “Look at that...” Jerome said, obviously pleased. 

“Jer-Jer...” Bruce’s words seemed to get choked into his throat when a second finger was added. It stretched his virgin entrance and it burned. “Hurts...” he whimpered. Jerome didn’t respond, only began scissoring Bruce’s entrance with his fingers and eventually the pain left and was replaced with a strange pleasure. ”Jerome...” Bruce whimpered out. “That’s it. Say my name, Brucie,” Jerome growled out as he entered a third finger, causing it to hurt again. “Hurts...” he cried. His fingers then curled and Bruce cried out as he felt pure pleasure surging through him. “There it is,” Jerome said with a pleased grin as he began striking that spot relentlessly. 

Stars danced in his vision as his body grew hotter and hotter until finally... he moaned wantonly as his orgasmed, his cock spurting out white stickiness that stained his turtleneck. His mind felt fuzzy and he barely noticed Jerome undoing his own pants until the head of his cock was pressed against his whole, his pants and boxers discarded and his legs thrown over Jerome’s shoulders. “N-no... please...” Jerome simply silenced him with a kiss filled with tonging and began to press in. Despite stretching Bruce, it still hurt as he pushed in. 

Jerome groaned as he was fully inside of Bruce and it felt so strange and it hurt and felt good at the same time. “So damn tight...” he groaned out before pulling back until only the head was in and Bruce absolutely screamed when Jerome slammed back inside, hitting that same spot again and making him see stars and feel only pleasure, the pain quickly fading away. His pace was urgent, fast, and downright brutal. Bruce managed to wriggle a hand free but it somehow found its way to clutching Jerome’s shoulder, as though holding on for support. In... out... in... out... 

Jerome’s hand slid up his shirt and found a sensitive bud and rolled it between his gloved fingers. Bruce wasn’t sure what made it feel so good, being touched or the feeling of Jerome’s leather glove, but his back arched as sweat pooled at his temples and soiled his shirt even more, making him feel hot and sticky and good all in one. “Cum for me, Brucie...” 

He did, his second orgasm ripping through him and staining both of their clothes. Jerome’s hips stuttered before he finally slammed inside, his hips jerking as he filled Bruce up to the brim and it was an oddly pleasant feeling... to be filled up. Jerome’s forehead pressed against Bruce’s shoulder, both of them breathing heavily. “Good boy, Brucie...” Jerome said as he pressed a rather sweet kiss to Bruce’s temple, almost like a lover. “Go to Hell...” Brucie muttered and he whimpered when Jerome pulled out. “Only if I get to take you with me,” Jerome said and Bruce could tell he was grinning. “I’ll see you there,” Bruce said before he passed out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope I did good  
> \- Also this entire thing might just be one-shots and hopefully requests for Gotham with Bruce/Jerome & Bruce/Jeremiah


	3. Stuck Between Part 2: Jerome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wakes up after the events of being taken by Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska. He doesn't know where Jeremiah is, but Jerome is having plenty of fun with Bruce as it is and Jeremiah has something planned for the young Wayne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Again for Simply_logic's request  
> \- I wasn't sure if I did too good with Bruce and Jerome in the previous chapter, so I wrote another piece to Stuck Between but for Jerome. The next one will be for Jeremiah

Bruce whimpered as he felt heat pooling in his nether region and the pit of his gut. “Still so damn tight,” Jerome said with a grin as he curled his fingers, brushing against Bruce’s sweet spot and causing the younger boy to cry out.

Only hours ago, he had been taken by the Valeska twins, Jeremiah taking his first kiss, giving him his first blowjob, and rimming him, and Jerome giving him his first hand job and claiming his virginity.

He didn’t recognize where he was at, only that he was in a large bedroom with a king-sized bed and he had a dreadful inkling as to what the bed posts were going to be used for. There were no windows, and a single door with very obvious locks on the other side of it was across the room, it almost gave him hope.

He didn’t know where Jeremiah was, and he didn’t know what state the Valeska brothers left his butler in, only that Alfred had gone down swinging, according to Jerome, and he did know that he was drugged, woke up in this unfamiliar environment, and Jerome was already playing with him. “Jer-Jerome...” he moaned as the redhead’s hand wrapped around his cock, pre-cum leaking form the red tip. “Be grateful little J isn’t here. He wanted that cute little cock of yours in a cage,” Jerome said with a gravelly chuckle that sent shivers up Bruce’s spine. 

The young Wayne never thought things would end up like this. He didn’t even understand how he could go from being sound asleep in his bedroom to being forced into a threesome with two other males, the Valeskas of all people, and now he was being toyed with by Jerome and Jeremiah was talking about putting a cage on him. Even the turtleneck that they’d left on him was gone, leaving him completely nude to Jerome’s hungry eyes and it made his skin flush even more. 

Unrelenting fingers jabbed at his sweet spot and his hips jerked and he cried out his orgasm, white shooting out and sticking to his already sweaty body. “You cum so beautifully,” Jerome said as he licked his lips. Jerome lowered his head and Bruce watched him _lick_ away Bruce’s release, as though cleaning it away and he seemed to enjoy the taste. “You might just be my favorite flavor,” Jerome laughed at the stricken look on Bruce’s face. 

Bruce turned his head away as he heard Jerome unzipping his pants and the shuffling sound of clothing being removed made him shiver with fear and lust. Jerome began stroking him again and he hated how his cock twitched, his body betraying him as it grew warm and heated again and his cock hardened painfully.

He gave a high-pitched whine when he felt the blunt head of Jerome’s cock pressing against his hole once again, not even sure how long it had been since he’d first been taken by both Valeskas at the same time. “H-hurts...” he whined as he grabbed Jerome’s shoulder, his breathing hitching as Jerome bottomed out. 

Jerome didn’t say anything, but Bruce yelped when he felt warm and _teeth_ around one of his sensitive buds. Jerome swirled his tongue around it, bringing it to hardness, and suckled and pulled it with his teeth and Bruce would never admit how he whined at it. It felt so good even if it hurt... was he getting hard because of the pain?

Jerome slowly pulled back, his cock sliding out and Bruce could feel every second of it, before he was slamming in again and Bruce screamed, nails digging into Jerome’s shoulder as his sweet spot was assaulted, his vision dancing and his loins firing up. “That’s it, Brucie...” Jerome ground out. ”Let me hear you...” his pace was fast, his hips snapping back and forth as he thrust in and out, and Bruce hated that he was loving it. He’d never felt so good to be used in such a way. 

“Jerome!” he cried at a particularly harsh jab at his prostate. He tried to pull the redhead away from his chest, Jerome having targeted the other one now, but he simply grabbed Bruce’s wrists and held them on each side of his head, effectively pinning him.

Bruce was sure that it felt like hours before he felt the unmistakable feeling of an approaching orgasm. “Jerome!” he cried out as it exploded out, painting his body with white and soiling him further. Jerome grunted and bit down into Bruce’s nub, eliciting a pained cry, and Bruce felt his own release filling him up to the brim. 

He was gasping for breath, whimpering at the same time and Jerome sighed with delight. Jerome released one of Bruce’s wrists and began running his fingers through Bruce’s sweaty hair, almost like he was petting him. “A little warning, Jeremiah’s getting your present,” Bruce didn’t want the present. “So, Bruce, darling, I’m going to give you mine first. Make sure to mention that. It pisses him off,” Jerome said before grinning and pressing their lips together, forcing his tongue inside Bruce’s mouth. 

Bruce whimpered into the kiss as Jerome began moving again, his cock sliding in and out of Bruce’s entrance and he felt every bit of it. Both Jerome and Jeremiah were huge, even bigger than Bruce, and it both hurt and felt like some kind of messed up Heaven. Bruce yelped when he was suddenly flipped over, pulled up to his knees, and his hands were pressed against the bed.

There was barely any warning before Jerome was thrusting again, snapping his hips forward and slamming into Bruce’s sweet spot, making the boy scream and cry out in pained pleasure. “Gonna fill you up, Brucie, darlin’. Gonna make you scream my name so much that entire house hears it,” Jerome whispered in his gravelly voice in Bruce’s ear, nibbling on the lobe and sucking it into his mouth. 

Both of Jerome’s hands travelled to Bruce’s sensitive nipples, rolling them between his fingers and Bruce’s cock twitched, dribbling pre-cum and soiling the sheets and Bruce had never hated his teenage body more for how quickly it was able to react. One hand traveled downwards, massaging his stomach almost tenderly, before Bruce whined as he felt that hand wrap around his cock. 

It felt like hours that Jerome had him in different positions. First the missionary, then doggy style, then he made Bruce sit on his lap with Jerome’s cock buried in his hole while he made Bruce watch as he jerked him into completion. Every time Jerome would lick Bruce’s essence away, licking every inch of Bruce’s skin that it stained.

He had a thing for playing with Bruce’s cock and his chest, enjoying the whines and heated gasps he could get out of Bruce’s mouth despite his protests. He would press his palm against Bruce's stomach, almost as though he was trying to massage his own cock through there, and Bruce could _feel_ it all.

Finally, Jerome laid him onto his back and the slick sheets as he pressed sweet, almost tender kisses to Bruce’s temple and jaw, neck and chest. He had an arm wrapped around Bruce’s shoulders as he held him to his chest like a lover. “God, you’re beautiful,” Jerome whispered, his voice husky. “And you’re crazy...” Jerome simply chuckled at that, licking the shell of Bruce’s ear. “Only for you, darlin’.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope I did good


	4. Stuck Between Part 3: Jeremiah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah arrives and gives Bruce his present as well as the promise that no matter what, they will be together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- More of a plot for Stuck Between but with the promise of more smut in the next chapter and centered more around Jeremiah and his fixation on Bruce  
> \- I saw the scene with Jeremiah and Bruce having dinner

Jerome was still pressing sweet, somewhat chaste, kisses to Bruce’s neck, his arm wrapped tightly around Bruce’s smaller form, and Bruce was whimpering as he was stroking his cock. He’d only left to get Bruce some water and a sandwich and Bruce was thinking about what Jerome had warned him about with growing dread. Jeremiah was getting him a so called present, and that was why Jerome had decided to... take him again. 

He’d also told Bruce to make sure Jeremiah knew that, and it would piss the other brother off. Bruce thought about how he could use their sibling rivalry to their advantage, but a suddenly tight grip on his cock elicited a whine from him. “Stop thinking, Brucie,” Jerome said with that same grin as he twisted his wrist, stroking Bruce leisurely. 

He wasn’t really trying to get Bruce off, he was just enjoying himself. He could... he could get the brothers mad at each other and maybe if he was lucky, a fight could break out. Assuming the inmates from Arkham were still loyal to Jerome, that would work against Jeremiah’s brains... but then again, would Jeremiah fall for it? Jerome might, but Jeremiah? 

Bruce jumped, causing Jerome to laugh merrily, when the door suddenly opened and speak of the green-haired devil, who was holding a purple box with a silky green ribbon on it. Jeremiah’s bright green eyes narrowed when he saw the state of Bruce and Jerome, even if they were under the blanket, and that was only because Bruce had tried, and failed, to cover himself from Jerome. 

He knew that it was pure jealousy and anger he saw in Jeremiah’s eyes. What level of insanity did these two possess that made them think that it was okay to break into someone’s house... do things to them... then kidnap them, and then be jealous over each other? 

“I believe you already had your turn,” Jeremiah said in a clipped tone. ”Yes, I did. Many times,” Jerome said with that same grin, loving the rise he was getting out of his twin. “Don’t you have a city to terrorize and people to kill?” Jeremiah asked and Jerome huffed. “Is that jealousy, little J?” Bruce knew it was and Jeremiah’s glare made Jerome roll his eyes. “Fine,” he groaned out before pressing one last kiss to the corner of Bruce’s mouth and getting up. Jeremiah rolled his eyes at his brother’s lack of modesty. 

Jerome grabbed his clothing and pulled on only the pants and the jacket and it was Jeremiah’s turn to roll his eyes. ”What? I like a little space between my loins, see ya Brucie!” Jerome said merrily as he walked out of the room, possibly unintentionally leaving the door somewhat ajar and Bruce wondered if he could make it by running. “He’s always been that way. Bold and crude,” Jeremiah said with evident disdain before he smiled. “I’ve gotten you a present,” he said, holding up the box. 

The glare he was giving should’ve been a dead giveaway, but Jeremiah was either ignoring it or was oblivious to it. “I don’t want it,” he said bitterly. “Well, admittedly it'll be uncomfortable at first but you’ll get used to it,” he didn’t like the grin that formed on Jeremiah’s ruby red lips as he said that. “Why are you doing this?” Bruce asked as he backed away, crawling up the bed as he tried to move away from Jeremiah as he walked up the side. 

“Where is Alfred?” Jeremiah sighed as he sat on the bed, his clothed thigh brushing against Bruce’s and making the teen jerk away. “Your faithful butler is fine. It was quite amusing to see him fight Jerome, he’s alive. Isn’t that all that matters to you?” Bruce was silent. “Why are you doing this?” he repeated. “Isn’t it obvious, Bruce?” Jeremiah was smiling again as he put the box on the bedside table. 

“I just want to be connected to you. I offered for you to be my best friend,” Jeremiah said in a hard voice, his face in Bruce’s. Bruce saw the sadness in his eyes as Jeremiah backed away. “But I’ve realized if we can’t be friends... then we can be connected in other ways,” how could there be such a fond hopefulness in his eyes? “How?” 

Jeremiah grinned. “You’ll see,” he promised. “In time,” he added as that grin turned into a small frown. “Don’t stare at me like that,” he said quietly. “Does this connection involve kidnapping? Home invasion? _Rape_?” Bruce said in a shaky voice. “I wanted to do things the right way... well, a better way than what that idiot had planned. Then I saw you there... I wanted you...” now or never. 

“I’d never done that... and you both stole it from me... Jerome most of all...” a flash of anger crossed over Jeremiah’s pale face, his lips turning down in a scowl. It wasn’t even a lie. “I never wanted to hurt you. I still don’t want to hurt you. I want to help you,” Bruce almost laughed out loud at that. ” _Help_ me? By breaking into my house? Attacking Alfred? Doing those _things_ to me? Letting **_Jerome_** _hurt me_?” it was a deep blow and while he knew the twins hated each other enough as it was, their weird fixation with him could be useful for him getting out and away. 

“It was never my intention, Bruce. He made one good point that it would hurt you at the same time. He’s known you longer... I hate that. I hate knowing that the only reason I know you is because of him. He’s ruined everything I have ever known, and taken everything I’ve ever had. My family. My mother. My life.” 

He looked at Bruce, determination in his eyes. ”I won’t let him take you away too,” he promised as he put a hand on Bruce’s cheek. Bruce hated what he was about to do, but knew he had no other options. He leaned forward, albeit hesitantly, and pressed his lips against Jeremiah’s. They were soft against his own, just as they had been when Jeremiah had stolen his first kiss. Jeremiah was clearly surprised, but dared not to let that stop him. 

A gloved thumb ran over Bruce’s lower lip when the teen pulled away, his cheeks flushed and his eyes downcast. “Don’t look away from me, Bruce,” Jeremiah said in a husky voice. “You and I are connected. Jerome might have been the reason why we met, but soon enough it will be just you and me,” Jeremiah said with an actual loving smile that had fear pooling in Bruce’s gut. “What do you mean by that?” he asked in a quiet voice. “You’ll see,” Jeremiah promised as he pressed his lips to Bruce’s, taking over the kiss this time. 

Bruce knew it was risky and figured that the twin whose side it was best to be on would be Jeremiah, even if he was smarter than Jerome. Bruce wasn’t sure if redemption was even possible at this point, for the twins or for himself, but he knew Jeremiah was more negotiable than Jerome was. Jerome was more explosive whereas Jeremiah was more cunning and probably sadistic, but Jeremiah had plans behind his ideas while Jerome liked to make points at the moment. In the long run, the better ally of the two would be Jeremiah, even if he might be physically weaker than Jerome. 

He knew he would never be able to look anyone, Alfred especially, in the eye ever again as Jeremiah’s tongue poked at his lips and he engaged. Jeremiah sighed with satisfaction as he coaxed Bruce’s tongue into responding, despite the absolute dominion he held over something as simple as a kiss. Bruce shivered Jeremiah cupped his face in his hands like a lover. 

Slowly, Jeremiah pulled away and Bruce was positive he had lipstick on his lips. “We’ll be together, like we are now, without any more...” Jeremiah’s gaze flickered to the door, which was still slightly ajar. “Nuisances, soon enough,” he promised as he pulled away, much to Bruce’s surprise. 

It pained him when he realized that he honestly thought he was going to be taken again, like he was the twins' plaything for their pleasure. Jeremiah smiled at him when he handed him the box. “What is it?” Bruce asked warily. Jeremiah simply chuckled. “I wouldn’t have bothered wrapping it if I didn’t want you to see it for yourself,” Jeremiah said simply as he ran his gloved fingers through Bruce’s hair and the teen once again felt as though he was being petted. 

He couldn’t help but stare at it. He remembered when he was a child, how he would shake his presents as if he could hear what was inside before pulling at the paper and receiving exactly what he wanted. “Well? Aren’t you going to open it?” Jeremiah asked as he moved closer to Bruce, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Jerome had done, and placing the other hand on his arm that same smile still on his lips. 

With a hesitant and shaking hand, Bruce pulled away the ribbon and let it fall. He lifted the lid and blinked with surprise when he saw what was inside. A black, leather collar with a gold buckle and gold words engraved on it. _Property of Jeremiah Valeska_. 

“ _Property_?” Bruce asked with barely hidden anger and resentment. “I know it sounds like a harsh word, but after everything that Jerome has put me through... Once I have something, I won’t let it go,” there was an unspoken warning in Jeremiah’s words, Bruce could tell. “Is that supposed to make it sound better?” Bruce asked bitterly as he put the box down. He barely noticed the dark look in Jeremiah’s eyes. 

“Do you not like it?” he asked. “It’s...” Bruce’s hands were shaking, out of anger or fear, he didn’t know, they just were. “Property,” he said bitterly. “What it means to me is that once I have something in my grasp,” Bruce did notice the tightening of Jeremiah’s fingers as they gripped his arms. “I don’t intend on letting it go or letting it get hurt. No matter who tries to take it away,” Jeremiah said quietly. “Then why did you let Jerome do... that?” Bruce asked quietly. 

Jeremiah’s grip softened, though he was clearly angry. “I wanted it but he threatened to hurt you and I had no other options. He’s already hurt you. Scarred you...” gloved fingers moved to Bruce’s left wrist, where the scars from the staples from that night at the carnival were at. “I knew he wasn’t bluffing when he threatened to hurt you, and that was the last thing I wanted. I wanted it to be just us, even if Jerome is the reason we met,” it ailed him to say that, knowing it was true. 

“It won’t matter soon. Pretend, don’t pretend, we’ll be together. We are connected, Bruce. You and I. Not you and Jerome. You took my virginity and I took yours. That’s all that matters,” Jeremiah said with a soft sigh as he pressed his forehead against Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce was frowning. Was Jeremiah planning on killing Jerome? “We are connected, you and I,” those words sounded so foreign to Bruce even as they echoed in his head. _You and I_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope I did good  
> \- Most likely smut in the next chapter


	5. ACE Chemicals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final showdown between Bruce Wayne and Jeremiah Valeska at ACE Chemicals...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Lines and quotes from the episode of the same name  
> \- Also I never expected so many hits and kudos and I just want to say thank you to everyone who has put a kudo and a comment on this work. It means a lot.

Bruce was overwhelmed with emotions. Anger and hatred, sadness and despair. How had things come to be this way? “Jeremiah,” he called out in a hoarse voice. “This ends. Tonight,” he said as he walked towards the madman. His pale face was seemingly glowing against the light of the green chemicals that were below them. Jeremiah turned towards him and began walking towards him, obvious intent in his eyes.

”No. No, Bruce. Now it begins,” he giggled madly as he pulled out a knife and Bruce charged him, there was a flurry of dodging fists, for Jeremiah, and dodging the knife, for Bruce, before the younger man was able to knock the knife from Jeremiah’s hands, sending it into the container of green chemicals below. 

He hit Jeremiah in his side and quickly started kicking him in the opposite direction until he landed on his back. Jeremiah simply sighed with delight. “Yes,” he breathed out as Bruce stormed to him and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. “Do you feel it?” Jeremiah asked breathlessly, bits of a laugh in his voice, as Bruce began punching him. “The connection between us?” Bruce kept punching him and Jeremiah kept talking. “You do! Don’t you?” Bruce kept hitting him, anger coursing through his veins. “You feel it. Tell me you feel it,” Jeremiah groaned out. 

The younger man leaned over him, panting harshly. “You mean nothing to me,” he growled out. A faint look of anger crossed Jeremiah’s face before he headbutted Bruce, sending him backwards. Jeremiah quickly got to his feet and began walking towards Bruce, who was quickly backing away. “Why don’t you understand?” Jeremiah demanded.

Bruce swung but Jeremiah dodged and the younger man was punched until he was leaning against the rails, Jeremiah hovering above him as he gripped his jacket. “You need me!” Jeremiah yelled, bringing his face close to Bruce’s. Gloved fingers dug into Bruce’s neck and jawline. “I’m the answer to your life’s question!” Jeremiah yelled before punching Bruce in the stomach.

“Without me you’re just a joke,” Jeremiah said harshly, his face close to Bruce’s and a strange look crossed Jeremiah’s face and it met his eyes. His lips were turned downwards into an open-mouthed frown, his eyes wide and sorrowful. ”Without a punchline,” he said in a quieter voice as their eyes met. 

Bruce jerked with surprise when he felt Jeremiah’s lips on his own, causing the rail to rattle and shake dangerously. He shoved Jeremiah off and moved away from the railing, trying to back away. Jeremiah was staring at him with obvious intent. “Jeremiah...” Bruce said lowly, almost dangerously. “You think I wanted things to turn out this way, Bruce?” Jeremiah asked as he stepped towards him, a dark gleam in his eyes as he pulled out another knife. “No,” Jeremiah said lowly. “I wanted your friendship. We are connected, whether it be in _friendship_ , _hatred_ , or even _love_ , we really are,” Bruce swung at him but Jeremiah punched him in the face, making his head explode with pain as he fell onto his back. 

Jeremiah got onto his knees, his groin close to Bruce’s. “All I wanted was for us to be connected and if this is the way to do it, then so be it,” Jeremiah said lowly as he punched Bruce in the face again, nearly knocking him unconscious as blackness swarmed Bruce’s vision. 

He flipped Bruce onto his stomach and pulled his jacket back, pulling the top and the sleeves down to Bruce’s elbows before pulling him onto his knees and pressing Bruce’s cheek against the cold floor. Bruce tried to pull his arms apart and found that he couldn’t. ”Jeremiah,” he groaned out as his head throbbed. “Can you feel the connection, Bruce? Because I certainly can,” Jeremiah said breathlessly as he lowered his head and pressed his forehead against the back of Bruce’s neck, mindful not to get headbutted. “I can feel it,” Jeremiah whispered hoarsely as he wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist and pulled Bruce against him. 

Bruce’s cheeks flushed when he felt what Jeremiah was sporting behind him. The green-haired lunatic’s clothed erection ground into Bruce’s bottom and his struggling renewed. Jeremiah retaliated by grabbing Bruce by his hair and slamming his forehead into the ground and Bruce cried out with pain as his vision grew fuzzy. “Feel it, Bruce. Feel the connection just as I do,” Jeremiah whispered as his hand traveled to Bruce’s pants, undoing the button effortlessly and slowly pulling down the zipper. He nearly tore the pants in two by pulling them down to Bruce’s knees, revealing Bruce’s boxers and Jeremiah moved the bottom of Bruce’s jacket out of the way. 

The younger man whimpered with genuine fear as he felt Jeremiahs’ gloved fingers creeping into the front of his boxers, the gloves making his cock involuntarily twitch with something akin to arousal. “S-stop, Jeremiah,” Bruce groaned out, unfortunately feeling what would soon be a gigantic bruise on his forehead. “Feel it, Bruce. Feel us. Feel me,” Jeremiah groaned as his fingers curled around Bruce’s cock, making Bruce involuntarily jerk his hips forward into Jeremiah’s hand. 

Bruce could do nothing but choke out gasps and make breathy moans as Jeremiah began stroking him. His thumb massaged the head of Bruce’s cock and Bruce whined at the feeling as pre-cum leaked from the tip and soiled Jeremiah’s glove and his boxers. “Feel it, Bruce,” Jeremiah whispered as he stroked Bruce slowly and pressed his erection against Bruce’s bottom. Bruce’s breathing hitched as he felt his stomach tightening as he felt his orgasm approaching. His hips jerked and he whined and moaned as his eyes grew hot with unshed tears. “Feel it, Bruce,” Jeremiah’s breath ghosted over his ear before he leaned over him and pressed their lips together. 

Jeremiah’s tongue made its way into Bruce’s mouth and Bruce was helpless to do anything. He would and could never admit that he was enjoying it, Jeremiah’s gloved hand touching him, how slow and surprisingly gentle he was, and how their lips felt when connected. It was like the Fourth of July as fireworks seemed to explode and he felt it. 

He heard the rustling of clothing as well as a zipper being pulled down. Jeremiah never once let him break the kiss even as he felt the blunt head of Jeremiah’s cock at his entrance. Bruce’s body arched and he cried out into the kiss, Jeremiah swallowing his cries and moans as he forced his cock inside. Bruce felt as though he was being filled and Jeremiah was almost torturously slow as he filled Bruce. “Feel it. Feel me. Feel us,” Jeremiah whispered before kissing him again, taking over and finally sheathing his cock deep inside. 

Bruce’s body felt so hot and heavy as he breathed heavily, gasping for breath after managing to break apart from the kiss. “Je-Jere-Jeremiah...” he panted as he felt sweat forming on his temples and forehead. It hurt so much that it felt good and it felt so good that It hurt. He could feel every bit of Jeremiah and he hated to admit, even in his own mind, that he could feel something between them, more than just the approaching orgasm. 

Jeremiah said nothing as he began to pull out and Bruce whined at the feeling of emptiness when he felt only the head. Jeremiah was then pushing back in. He was slow and sensual, tender and loving. Bruce’s back bent as he arched into Jeremiah when he felt his cock against his sweet spot. “There you are...” Jeremiah whispered softly as he made love to Bruce. _His_ Bruce. Even when going so slowly, Jeremiah was able to find Bruce’s sweet spot with every thrust of his hips. 

It felt like hours as Bruce’s orgasm built up, Jeremiah stroking him with one hand while his other hand was pressed against Bruce’s stomach, his arm wrapped around Bruce’s form and holding him close, and even though the angle was awkward, Jeremiah’s lips never left Bruce’s and their tongues danced together, wetly and hotly, softly and slowly. His thrusts grew somewhat faster and Bruce knew his orgasm was approaching and he whined as he felt Jeremiah’s stroking increase ever so slightly. “Jeremiah,” he whimpered. “Cum for me, Bruce. Feel our connection.” 

He did. Bruce’s hips stuttered and jerked as he came, painting the floor with white and he unintentionally clenched onto Jeremiah, who groaned with delight at the response and his own hips stuttered before he finally slammed into Bruce, making the younger man cry out with pleasure as his sweet spot was struck, and he felt Jeremiah’s release filling him up and some of it leaked out, dribbling down the back of his thighs. Jeremiah didn’t even break the kiss as they both orgasmed. Bruce finally did and pressed his cheek back onto the floor, breathing heavily and panting harshly. “ _I love you_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- How did I do?


	6. Stuck Between Part 4: Jerome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce tries to run away and things don't go as planned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- If there are requests, regardless of the Valeska brother, I'm happy for them. I just can't figure out which twin I like better. I think I like them both equally, just at different times lol  
> \- Also, this chapter was long as hell and I hope it's good

Bruce had been allowed to take a shower, though some of Jerome’s henchmen were posted at the door, and there were no windows to climb out of. It was only across the hall from the room they had him in, but it was most likely that he was in a mansion as there was a long hallway with a lot of doors and the right corridor led to a stairwell, that was all he could see. The walls were red and Jeremiah had said something about decorating after the... plans followed through. 

Bruce both wanted to know and didn’t, worried how they concerned him and Gotham City. The entire bathroom was huge, mostly taken up by the gigantic shower, and was lavishly decorated. Bruce grimaced when he thought about the two possible ways the twins had made this their hideout. They either got the money for it illegally, or killed the people who actually owned the place. Bruce almost prayed for the former. 

The warmth of the water was refreshing and calming as it was painful. He was alone with his thoughts. That was never a good thing. Despite his body being covered in soap, he saw the love bites and the bruises from fingers and teeth and hated it. 

 _It wasn’t consensual. You couldn’t have fought back._ One voice in his mind told him. _But you did fight Jerome before and technically won. And Jeremiah isn’t much of a fighter._ Another crueler voice in his head taunted. He knew he was crying but the tears were washed away by the water, but the memories weren’t. _There were two of them. Even if I fought off one, the other would’ve gotten me._ He tried to tell himself. _And they hurt Alfred. He wouldn’t have been able to help. Jeremiah’s even the type to let Jerome take the reins and get dirty before he does._ He added. _Ah, but still. The minute you woke up, you could’ve done something more than just sit there and take it._  

He was openly sobbing now, the sound drowned out by the water and the tears washed away. He was clean, at least physically, and was sitting on the shower floor, his hands holding his ankles and his forehead against his knees. He would never be the same after this. 

Alfred... how would he react? The man already had to live through knowing that his employers were murdered in cold blood, he took care of Bruce and taught him how to fight, and if he found out about this? “No!” Bruce shouted, though he quickly regretted it, afraid the henchmen would storm in and demand to see what was happening. Nothing happened and he was grateful. 

Alfred could and would never know about this. Alfred would never know. Detective Gordon and Bullock would never know. Selina wouldn’t know. It would be a secret he would take to the grave. Only he and the twins would know, though that thought gave him a dreadful feeling of worry. Jerome was expressive in just about every meaning of the word and was openly vocal about almost anything. 

Bruce would escape and he would get back to Wayne Manor, or even the GCPD and find Gordon. He wouldn’t tell him, he couldn’t, even if it held a stronger case against the Valeskas for putting them back in Arkham, though that was only the easy part. Keeping them in Arkham, or at least Jerome, was the pain in the ass. There had to be a door or a window. He could maybe take on Jerome’s Arkham cronies, but what would he do when Jerome or Jeremiah came to investigate? He didn’t trust himself to have the strength to run away or fight them. 

Even just them saying his name in that warning tone made him weak in the knees with fear. He could get his hands on a weapon. Though that might require hurting someone and he didn’t like that. He was also unwilling to kill even for his own freedom. They were sick people, and needed help, and he couldn’t kill them. He couldn’t even find it in himself to hate the twins enough to want to kill them even after everything they had both done to the city, to the people, the GCPD, to Alfred, and even to him. 

A knocking on the door made him jump and he wondered why they would bother to knock. They’d both seen him naked already. “The boss wants to see you,” it wasn’t one of the twins, which was the only reason they’d bothered knocking. He wasn’t sure which one they were referring to, but stared at the shower floor. He could... pretend to slip, pretend to fall, pretend to be hurt, and when they came into investigate, he might be close enough to their legs and could grab a weapon off their person, if they had one and he was certain they would, and take off. He could jump them, take them by surprise. 

 _You’re naked._ One of those little annoying voices in his head reminded him. “So what? Nothing the twins haven’t seen,” he muttered to himself and he realized how stupid he sounded, if not crazy. Well, who else was he supposed to talk to? The henchmen? The _twins_? He could probably just use the shower curtain, or even steal an article of clothing off one of the former inmates if the chance came up. He laid down onto the floor, shaking from anticipation and maybe even fear. 

Would the former inmates hurt him? He could handle the punches, but he was genuinely afraid if they tried to hurt him in the same way that Jerome and Jeremiah had, but neither twin really seemed like the sharing type and Bruce felt disgust when he realized they only compromised their differences to each other, at least for the time being, so they could at least both have him, even if that meant sharing with the person they hated most. 

He crouched down and clutched the shampoo and body wash bottles, his hands curled into fists around them as the door opened. “I said, the boss wants--” the former inmate, a man, stopped mid-sentence. “Hey, are you--” Bruce could see through the curtain that he was covering his eyes with one hand and was slowly going to open the curtain with the other. The minute the curtain was pulled back, Bruce struck. He slammed the body wash bottle, heavy as it still had a lot of soap in it, onto his head, praying he’d be alright later on, and the man went down. 

Bruce looked quickly to the door to make sure nobody else was there, and thankfully there wasn’t, and he looked down at the man on the floor. He was wearing the same jacket the Arkham inmates were made to wear and he was unconscious, and thankfully not dead. 

Bruce pulled the jacket off him and grimaced as he buttoned every button. It covered his entire body, almost as though it was swallowing him, and it thankfully went just above his knees, covering his backside and his privates. It would have to do, but he wasn’t like Jerome. _I_ **_don’t_ ** _like space between my loins._ He thought bitterly as he peered out the door, checking for anyone else. 

There was nobody. How was it this easy? Did they automatically assume Bruce was going to be submissive after what they’d done? Breaking and entering, two forms of assault, and murder? Bruce quickly and quietly crept away from the bathroom, praying that the house didn’t like to creak and that he wouldn’t run into anyone. 

He made his way to the stairs and peered around carefully, where was everybody? Were either of the twins in those many rooms he’d passed on his way to the top of the stairs? Then again, Jeremiah had said something to Jerome about terrorizing the city and killing people... that dreadful feeling crept back into Bruce’s gut as he made his way down the stairs, quiet as possible. 

The stairs led to an entrance room with double doors on each side of the room, and another regular door off to the right side of the stairs. There was another double door in the front, in between two large windows, and Bruce saw that it was pitch black outside and that could be good and bad for him. That meant there was nobody out there with flashlights or cars, but it also meant it would be harder for him to look where he was going. He was almost to the double doors when he heard something from the top of the stairs. “Going somewhere, Bruce?”

Instinct, irrational or rational, made him go into a full sprint. His hand grabbed the doorknob and twisted it and to his growing horror, the door was locked. "You know, I expected this. I really did. I don’t blame you, of course. It’s only natural,” each step down those stairs sounded like thunder in Bruce’s ears. His hand scrabbled to turn the lock and the minute that clicking sound hit his ears, he was positive he’d almost ripped the knob out when he’d opened the door. 

“Go ahead, get some exercise, Jerome will be happy to... play with you again,” he moved, nearly falling down on the large porch when he jumped over the steps and once his feet hit the coldness of the ground, grass and leaves, he took off running into the darkness. 

Crickets chirped almost merrily and he wondered just where the hell he was at. He knew his escape plan was stupid but he didn’t want to be played with by either brother anymore. He wasn’t someone’s property and certainly not a sexual plaything. He ran through woods that didn’t belong in Gotham and was afraid for how long he had been out and where they had taken him. 

He figured he could find a road and there were only two worst-case scenarios he could think of. Someone who worked for the twins, or even Jerome, would end up picking him up and bringing him right back, or someone else that he didn’t know would feel inclined to take advantage of the half-naked teenager they’d found on the side of the road, regardless of who he was. 

The best-case scenario is that a good person would pick him up, maybe even cloth him, and take him to the nearest police station they could and he could find a way to contact Gordon. The only problem with that would be that he would have to explain what happened, probably having to be honest about what exactly the twins had done to him, but he’d take doing that over staying in that mansion and being... _played_ with. 

Bruce really wasn’t sure how long he ran for, but he did know his lungs were burning as his legs screamed at him. He couldn’t stop running. He just couldn’t. He almost tripped over his own two feet when they finally met pavement instead of grass and dirt. He saw that he was on a dark road, but he couldn’t see any signs in the dark. Left, or right? Neither direction indicated anything and his breathing was quick despite his panting for breath. He decided to go right, and hoped that it would work. 

He wrapped his arms around himself and hated that he was almost naked, with only a stolen Arkham inmate jacket covering him and he realized that someone might think he was an escaped convict. A small frown formed on his lips as he thought about that. _Why’re you wearing an inmate uniform? Get out! Police! Police!_ A faceless person and an unknown voice yelled in his ears. He shivered from the cold. His hair was wet and the jacket clung to his skin. 

He was so warped in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t notice the sound of a rumbling engine. It could be help, it could be Jerome or the cronies, or both of that last one, and he hoped it was a good person and not someone who would try and take advantage of him. He didn’t know if they had any specific vehicles, so that didn’t help. He moved to the side of the road, clearly in view since it was somewhat close to a curb, but in a safe distance. 

The lights came next and almost blinded him. He held a hand in front of his face as the vehicle, an old truck that looked black in the dark, stopped in front of him. He heard the car door open and he moved towards the sound, which was on the driver’s side. ”Can you help me?” he asked in a clear, somewhat quiet, voice as he tried to look at the person. “I... I need help,” he admitted as his eyes adjusted and— _No_. 

Jerome was standing there, that same grin on his face but this time a gun in his hand. A revolver. “Need help little fella?” he asked before cackling with obvious delight. Bruce was shaking. ”When little J called and said an inmate had escaped, I just had to investigate,” Jerome was walking closer and Bruce felt like a prey being stalked by a predator. A lion and a zebra, Bruce being the zebra and Jerome the lion. Bruce didn’t like it. 

Bruce backed up, trying not to panic or trip. “So, Brucie,” Jerome was clearly enjoying himself, but then again, he always seemed to be enjoying himself. “We can do this the easy way or the fun way or the _really_ fun way,” he twirled the gun idly in his hand. “I gotta tell ya though, the _really_ fun way sounds perfect to me,” he said. Bruce didn’t want to try any of the ways. He took off running, off the road in his panicked state, and he heard Jerome laughing. “The fun way it is!” Bruce almost screamed when he heard the sound of the gun being fired and the bullet whizzed past his ear, nearly getting him. 

It was at that moment that Bruce knew, he hated the woods. A root. _A tree_ _root_. What else could it have been? Was this entire thing a setup that they had planned for him to see if he’d try to escape? He tripped on a tree root of all things and his ankle flared with pain as he landed on his face, then again, he heard the gun go off again and wondered if the root had saved him from death, but not what Jerome was going to do to him and what Jeremiah was going to do afterwards. 

He tried to get up but cried out with shock and fear when he felt a hand on his lower back shove him back down before the person crawled on top of him. “Brucie, Brucie, Brucie,” Jerome was clearly grinning, Bruce could practically hear him grinning, and was talking to him as though he was scolding a child. “What am I going to do with you?” Jerome asked as he flipped Bruce onto his back and Bruce’s ankle hit the ground and Bruce cried out in pain. It was somewhat brighter now and Bruce realized dawn was on the way. “Get off me!” Bruce cried, clawing at Jerome and trying to shove him off. Jerome simply clicked his tongue in response as he showed him the gun and Bruce froze. Jerome wouldn’t kill him, right? He’d lose his... plaything, and Jeremiah would be pissed. Then again, Jerome enjoyed pissing off Jeremiah and had no problem killing people. 

Bruce hated that he started to cry as Jerome put the barrel of the gun against his jaw, running it down his neck and making his skin crawl. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry...” he cried. “Oh, Brucie, It's okay. It just makes things all the more fun,” Jerome said and Bruce wasn’t sure whether to be afraid or angry. “You’re insane!” he spat angrily before recoiling. ” _Insane_ is such a mean word, I prefer _mentally creative_ ,” Jerome said with that same grin as he pulled the jacket up on Bruce’s body. Bruce tried to pull it back down but the clicking of the gun made his arms freeze. “Atta boy, Brucie,” Jerome chuckled in his gravelly voice. Bruce’s mouth opened as he began to cry. He couldn’t take this. He couldn’t just... submit to them. Jerome was on his knees, which gave Bruce plenty of space too... 

He didn’t even know what he was doing until he did it. Jerome grunted with surprise and pain and the gun went off, near Bruce’s ear and it somewhat hurt his ears, but he was more surprised at the fact that his knee made contact with Jerome’s groin. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ Bruce scrambled backwards as he watched Jerome clutch his groin with both hands, though clearly still mindful not the aim the gun at himself like Bruce would’ve preferred if he accidentally pulled the trigger again. 

“The _really_ fun way it is then,” Jerome groaned out. “And here I thought I was going to tell little J to go easy on you because of how _badly_ I hurt you before,” there was a bitterness in Jerome’s voice that had Bruce’s insides tensing with fear. “What? You didn’t think he’d bitch about it? He’s been a whiner since he came out of our mom. ‘ _You hurt_ **_my_ ** _Bruce. He and I share a connection_ ,’” Jerome did a perfection imitation of Jeremiah. 

“I dealt with him wanting everything his way for years. I’ve known you longer, I met you first. You might think that I think of you as just some little sex toy but I don’t,” there was a strangeness to Jerome’s voice. “I wouldn’t deal with your pain in the ass hero-complex otherwise,” was he being serious right now? “You _hurt_ me! You both did!” Jerome’s eyes hardened. “I seem to recall you asking me to let you cum yesterday,” Bruce flushed as he too remembered. 

There was barely any time to react before Jerome was on top of him again, the gun aimed right under his ear and this time Jerome’s ass was sitting on his thighs, no chance of him kicking him again. “Now, Bruce--” Bruce actually flinched when Jerome didn’t even use his nickname for the teen. “The easy way would’ve been taking you home--” _Home!?_  

”After having some fun in the truck, but you wanted the fun way. A little chase scene, some fun time in the woods, wild style, I can get into that, but you then you chose the really fun way,” that grin was back on his face. “Don’t bitch about it when I gave you a heads up,” his eye was on the gun now. What did he plan on doing? Russian roulette? 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Bruce really didn’t want to but even as he made a fist and prepared to punch Jerome, the gun went off again, hitting the ground right next to Bruce’s head and he cried out with shock and terror. The fist unclenched immediately after. ”Good boy, Brucie,” Jerome said, pleased. 

Jerome’s fingers ran over Bruce’s lips. “You’re gonna wanna suck ‘em, Brucie,” Bruce grimaced as he let those fingers go into his mouth. First Jerome’s index, then his middle finger which made him gag, and then his ring finger. “Wet ‘em up,” Jerome instructed and Bruce licked them slowly, hating himself. When Jerome deemed his fingers wet enough, he pulled them out and used the hand holding the gun to lift Bruce’s leg up. 

“Jerome... please don’t do it again...” Bruce begged, clear terror in his voice as his body shook. “Sorry, Brucie, but you wanted the really fun way,” Jerome said softly as he moved to lay next to Bruce on the ground rather than on top of him, though it didn’t matter much since he traded hands with the gun and held Bruce up somewhat as he wrapped his arm around the younger boy, his hand nearing the buttons of the jacket. Bruce wanted to say that he didn’t want the easy way, the fun way, or the really fun way at all, but knew it would do him no good. 

Bruce’s breathing hitched when he felt Jerome’s fingers prodding his entrance, circling it, his index finger rubbing it up and down, before it finally pushed in. Bruce hated how easily that single finger went in and the sigh of contentment that came from Jerome’s lips. “So gorgeous,” Jerome whispered in his ear, his hot breath ghosting over Bruce’s neck. 

Bruce whimpered as he felt that finger moving around inside of him as Jerome added the next one, his middle finger. Jerome stretched him, surprisingly slowly, and Bruce sighed as he laid his head onto Jerome’s chest. Jeremiah said he understood, Bruce wouldn’t try again... not until he gained their trust back, though he figured now that he never really had it in the first place, and feared on how long that would take. 

Bruce whimpered and turned his face into Jerome’s chest when he felt Jerome effortlessly undo the buttons, starting from the bottom, of the jacket. He stopped when there were only two buttons left, and opened the jacket, revealing Bruce’s body, which was still littered in love bites and bruises. Bruce whimpered out a moan when he felt Jerome playing with his nipple, rolling it between his fingers and lightly pulling on it, bringing it to full hardness easily. 

The teen audibly yelped when he felt something cold against his entrance and Jerome’s chuckle in his ear didn’t help anything. “What is that?” he asked as he thought about what Jerome could have in his hand. The only thing in Jerome’s left hand would be... Bruce froze when he thought about it. “That’s right, Brucie, a little gunplay to make things extra fun,” Jerome said with a gravelly chuckle. 

He clutched Jerome’s jacket as he tried to steady his breathing as he felt the gun going inside, replacing Jerome’s fingers. “S-stop... please... I’m sorry...” Bruce babbled out apologies. “You can be sorry, Brucie, but you’re still getting punished,” as though he were some kind of pet in need of discipline, Bruce thought bitterly but he couldn’t say much as he felt the gun pressing against that spot. 

Stars popped in his as his hips jerked upwards and he felt heat flooding into his cock, hardening it. “Jerome... not a gun... not a gun...” he pleaded. “Punishment, Brucie,” Jerome reminded him as he began thrusting the gun in and out, albeit slowly, as though it were a cock or a toy that wouldn’t blow Bruce’s insides out of him if the trigger was pulled. 

What Bruce hated the most was how hard he was getting and the fact that pre-cum was leaking now, staining his skin after his shower, and he cried into Jerome’s chest. “Shh... there, there, Brucie...” Jerome whispered sweet nothings in his ear and Bruce cried as his he involuntarily thrust his hips forward, his cock rubbing against Jerome’s pants. “There we go, you’re doing good. Little more,” Jerome urged as he quickened his pace and Bruce cried with both pain and pleasure and fear as his toes curled into the grass and his thighs quivered. 

“Jer-Jerome!” he cried out as his sweet spot was rammed mercilessly with the gun. He moaned loudly, his knuckles turning white from his grip on Jerome’s jacket, as he came, though Bruce flushed an even deeper red when he realized he’d soiled Jerome’s pants. “I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly. “For what? That was hot,” Jerome laughed at the expression on Bruce’s face. 

He whimpered in pain as the gun was pulled out and he made a disgusted face when he saw that the barrel was wet. He wasn’t sure how to feel, when Jerome lifted the gun to his lips and _licked_ it. Jerome was grinning, his face illuminated by the early light. “C’mon, Brucie. Time to go home,” there was that word again. How was that place anyone’s home, especially after what Jerome had done to Bruce in that bedroom? 

To his surprise, Jerome carried him back to the truck, which was actually a light blue with hints of rust and a lot of dirt on it, and he put him in the backseat, lying him on his back and then crawling on top of him. “Someone could come...” Bruce flinched at his poor choice of words when Jerome’s grin managed to grow. 

”The only people who’ll be _cumming_ , Brucie, are you and me. Nobody’s going to see, swearsies,” Jerome promised as he began undoing his belt and the button to his pants, his zipper going down immediately after. Bruce hated how this felt like he as rolling over and submitting, but he’d just been played with, with a gun in his... special place, by a madman. Alfred would be livid, maybe even disgusted... but mostly livid about the whole thing. It was Jerome and Jeremiah’s fault, not Bruce’s. 

Bruce’s ankles were put over Jerome’s shoulders, and Bruce hissed with pain when Jerome moved the ankle he’d twisted. The left one. “You might’ve sprained it. Maybe even broke it. We’ll get it looked at later,” Jerome promised as he positioned himself at Bruce’s entrance before promptly shoving in. Bruce screamed with a mixture of surprise(from the quickness), pain(from the immediate thrust), and pleasure(Jerome had struck that spot inside of him again), and Jerome began thrusting in and out, his pace relentless and his sex drive brutal. 

The teen moaned like a million-dollar whore, wanton and ready, as Jerome practically used him like some kind of a human flesh light. Bruce tried to grab onto the redhead, but he grabbed both of Bruce’s wrists in each hand and held them above his head, not stopping his thrusts at any moment. Each thrust was a jab at his sweet spot, and his cock was quickly swelling to hardness as pre-cum poured out of the tip. He could hear the truck rocking back and forth in rhythm to the thrusting.

"Jerome!” he cried out at a particular hard thrust. “That’s it, Brucie. Cum for Daddy,” where the hell did _that_ come from? Jerome wasn’t that much older than him, and sure as hell wasn’t anyone’s daddy. Bruce couldn’t say much as he was quickly arching his back, screaming out his orgasm as he soiled the jacket and stained his skin and he hoped Jerome wouldn’t be mad about him getting it in the truck. Then again, Jerome probably would _like_ that. 

He clenched around Jerome, who met his orgasm with a relieved groan as he filled Bruce’s hole with his release. Bruce was panting, trying to catch his breath, as Jerome sighed. “That’ll never get old,” Jerome said softly as he then maneuvered Bruce, mindful not to hit the teen’s head on the roof of the truck, and sat on the backseat, Bruce on his lap and his cock between the two. Bruce was so tired from the running and the two orgasms, he simply laid his head on Jerome’s shoulder. 

“What’s Jeremiah going to do?” Bruce asked quietly. Jerome simply chuckled as he ran his hand over Bruce’s back, almost as though he was petting the teen and Bruce hated the idea of that. “Don’t worry, Brucie. Little J isn’t going to be seeing you for a while. It’s my turn, after all,” Jerome said with that same grin, not that Bruce could currently see it but he was sure it was there. 

Bruce was surprised when Jerome began thrusting back up into him, it was already uncomfortable enough when Jerome maneuvered him without even pulling his cock out of Bruce’s hole, but in this position? Bruce whimpered as Jerome thrust up and the redhead urged him to lift his hips in rhythm. “I can’t,” Bruce cried. 

“Look at it this way,” Jerome said softly, threading his fingers through Bruce’s sweaty hair. “The longer we have fun, the longer you’re away from a punishment from Jeremiah that won't’ be as lenient as mine,” Bruce hated the fact that Jerome was right. “It’ll piss him off more,” Bruce whispered and Jerome simply chuckled. “That’s the idea, Brucie.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope it was good


	7. Stuck Between Part 5: Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce's punishment for running away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope it's good

Bruce had fallen asleep on the ride back to the mansion he was imprisoned at by the Valeska brothers and whimpered when he woke up, seeing it in daylight. It was huge and two, maybe even three, stories tall and there was Jeremiah, standing there and waiting patiently as the truck pulled into the drive. Jerome had thankfully let him keep the Arkham inmate’s jacket on, though only two of the top buttons were actually buttoned, and Bruce’s hands gripped each side, pulling it closer to himself. Jerome had... _taken_ him in the woods with a gun, a loaded one at that, then in the truck, then made Bruce... 

Bruce flushed when he thought about how he rode Jerome willingly, even if it was just to avoid Jeremiah’s less lenient punishment a little longer. “Took you long enough,” he heard Jeremiah say as Jerome got out of the truck and Bruce almost pouted because he took the keys. _That would’ve been too easy._ He thought bitterly. “When the fox hears the rabbit scream, he comes a-runnin’, but not to help,” Jerome said with that same grin and Jeremiah scowled at him, pure loathing in his green eyes. 

The teen noticed the collar that was supposed to be his gift was in Jeremiah’s hands as well as the same box, with the same green ribbon in his other hand, but it was wrapped again and Bruce dreaded the idea of getting another present. He jumped when Jerome was at the passenger door and despite Bruce wanting to stay in the truck, Jerome pulled him out and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulders. “Now, what did we learn today, Brucie?” Jerome asked with a grin as he led him to the double doors that would take him back inside. 

He couldn’t help but hate his feet as they walked him to those giant wooden doors. “That you’re both insane,” Bruce spat bitterly. Jerome chuckled while Jeremiah smiled lightly and it was the strangest thing. Usually when one twin was smiling, or in Jerome’s case grinning, the other twin was scowling. He’d never really seen both twins look somewhat happy at the same time. It was unnerving. “’No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness,’” Bruce recognized the quote but refused to say anything else. “Aw, you flatterer you,” Jerome said and Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was talking about you,” sarcasm was not an endearing trait. 

Jeremiah wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shivering form. “You’ll be needing another shower. Do yourself and the help a favor and keep the soap in the shower. They are for cleaning, not knocking people unconscious,” Jerome cackled at that. “Was it like a cartoon? Did he see stars or birds?” Jerome asked and Jeremiah sighed with annoyance as he led Bruce into the mansion and up the stairs. 

Bruce noticed the former inmate he had struck over the head was talking to a woman he didn’t recognize and the inmate glared at him as they walked away. Bruce didn’t see what the problem was or why the inmate was glaring at him. It was Jerome and Jeremiah’s fault he had to do it, not his. 

Jerome turned on the water and Bruce flinched when Jeremiah pulled the jacket off him. He gripped it and Jeremiah clicked his tongue. “You’re filthy, Bruce. You’ve been running in the woods and clearly...” Jeremiah didn’t look impressed if his glare directed at the back of Jerome’s head said anything. “Enjoying yourself,” he said in a tight voice and Bruce saw Jerome smirking. 

“A change of clothes will be brought to you, of course,” Jeremiah added as he pulled off his own jacket and a feeling of dread pooled in the pit of Bruce’s stomach. ”What’re you doing?” he did not yelp when Jerome was pressed against his back. “All jealousy aside, we had a little heart to heart,” Bruce didn’t like where this was going as Jerome undid the last two buttons and the jacket fell open. 

Gentle hands pulled the jacket from his shoulders and Bruce’s legs trembled as it fell to the floor, pooling around his feet. “Apparently I already hurt you,” Jerome whispered in his ear as Jeremiah held his cheek with a gloved hand, his thumb running over Bruce’s lower lip. “And apparently I’m less lenient than Jerome,” Jeremiah said and Bruce whimpered as he felt Jerome’s fingertips running over his sides and up to his chest and they both caged him between themselves. 

His fight or flight mode seemed to be switched off as he neither resisted or tried to run as Jerome led him into the shower. Bruce hadn’t even seen him get undressed and he sighed as the water cascaded down onto the both of them. Jerome’s back was turned towards the shower head as he held Bruce close to him and despite the water, he could hear and see Jeremiah undressing behind the curtain. 

“Such a good little Brucie,” Jerome said quietly as he pressed his lips to Bruce’s and Bruce couldn’t fight back. How much stamina did the redhead have? While Bruce didn’t really want to know the answer, he knew he was going to find out quickly. 

Jeremiah then joined them and Bruce whimpered as he felt Jerome’s arm wrap around his waist, pulling him close and he could feel Jerome’s erection against his bare bottom as Jerome’s fingers fondled his nipples. Bruce never hated his body more for its constant betrayal to him and he whined as he felt Jerome fondling him. 

He watched with wide eyes as Jeremiah got down onto his knees and licked his lips, his hands each gripping Bruce’s inner thighs as he spread his legs and Bruce whined when he felt Jeremiah’s mouth on him. It was the same as when Jeremiah had given it to him when they took his virginity, but this was somehow even slower than the first time. They had more time, Bruce realized. Nobody knew where he was at and there was no chance of Alfred interrupting them. “Told you, Brucie, not as lenient,” Jerome said almost sympathetically in his ear and Jeremiah huffed around Bruce’s cock. 

He was sure he was leaking pre-cum, but that didn’t seem to faze Jeremiah, rather it made him more wanting of Bruce’s cock. The dark-haired teen jerked and thrust his hips forward unintentionally when his entire cock was in Jeremiah’s mouth and undoubtedly touching the back of his throat. Apparently, Jeremiah had no gag-reflex to speak of. He never knew taking a shower could be so hot. His body was quickly heating up as Jerome fondled and massaged him and Jeremiah sucked on him like a lollipop, his cheeks hollowed and his tongue running along the bottom of Bruce’s cock. 

Jeremiah massaged his thighs with his hands, gripping them and releasing them and Bruce thrust his hips forward and Jeremiah hummed around his cock, the vibrations making Bruce feel as though he was in Heaven. He felt his stomach heating up and tightening as his cock hardened uncontrollably. ”Jeremiah...” he whimpered out and Jerome chuckled in his ear. “ _I warned you_ ,” the redhead said in a sing-song voice. 

Bruce heard something clicking and looked down to see a golden ring aorund the base of his cock. “What the hell?” Bruce tried to jerk away but Jerome held him tightly and Jeremiah refused to let him take his own cock out of his mouth. “It’s called a cock ring. Staves off orgasms,” Jerome explained and Bruce hated it. His body was not for Jerome and Jeremiah to enjoy and use like that. He wasn’t somebody’s pet and Jerome wasn’t his Daddy. 

“S-stop,” he groaned out as he dug his nails into Jerome’s forearm, though the redhead didn’t seem to mind, if anything, he seemed to enjoy it as he hummed in Bruce’s ear. The cock ring was one of the worst things. Jeremiah didn’t even need to grip the base of his cock, that’s what it was for. Bruce could feel the tightening of his loins as his orgasm approached, but the cock ring refused to let him orgasm. It was supposed to be a punishment, and Bruce had never hated it more than he did at that moment. 

He really wasn’t sure how long he was under the spray of the water, all three of them soaked and only two of them were really enjoying themselves. Jeremiah had cleaned his bottom half with a free hand while Jerome cleaned his top half. “Wanna come... please...” Bruce whined as he pressed the back of his head against Jerome’s wet shoulder. 

“Should we let him cum?” Jeremiah asked as he finally pulled off Bruce’s cock, though his hand kept stroking it rather leisurely. Bruce saw that it was an angry red at being denied to orgasm. “I don’t know. We did have quite a lot of fun in the truck. He really likes the gun,” Jerome said with a low chuckle. Bruce wanted to deny that but he was too busy begging to be allowed to cum. “Are you going to try and run away again?” Jeremiah asked as he rubbed his thumb over the weeping head of Bruce’s cock. 

Bruce shook his head instantly. “Won’t run... won’t run...” he promised without really thinking about it. Hs body was hot, his nipples erect and just as hard as his cock because of Jerome playing with them, and his mind was foggy as his thoughts were mushy. “Are you sure?” Jeremiah teased and Bruce sobbed, his cock throbbing with a painful ache. “Won’t run! Won’t run!” he promised. 

Jeremiah’s lips wrapped around his cock again and Bruce was openly crying, though the water hid his tears. He turned his head to look up at Jerome, who grinned at him as he pressed their lips together, swallowing Bruce’s moans and shoving his tongue into his mouth. Beg to Jerome or beg to Jeremiah? Jeremiah was the one inflicting the punishment... did he also like to be called Daddy? 

It made Bruce feel sick to think of how he was begging Jeremiah to let him orgasm as though he was some kind of pet to them. “Jeremiah... please...” Bruce begged. “Mm,” Jeremiah hummed around his cock and Bruce whined, moaning like a wanton whore. 

Jerome was suckling on his neck, alternating between long licks and pleasurable nibbling and Bruce hated how he loved the feeling. “Please... let me cum...” he begged. Neither brother seemed to be paying attention to his begs, Jeremiah enjoying himself with Bruce’s cock and Jerome wasn’t about to hear Jeremiah complain when he was enjoying Bruce’s reactions as well. “Daddy... please...” Bruce’s face flushed scarlet when he heard Jeremiah make a choking sound from surprise. 

Said Valeska brother looked up at Bruce with surprise and then glared at him. Bruce was afraid he’d done something wrong and then he realized Jeremiah was glaring at Jerome, not him. Jerome’s cheek pressed against Bruce’s. “Wrong one, Brucie,” Jerome said with a small chuckle as his hand traveled to Bruce’s backside and the teen winced and his breathing hitched as he felt Jerome’s finger enter him easily. What the hell did Jeremiah like to be called then? 

Bruce felt embarrassment creep through the pleasure as Jerome added a second finger and began stretching him. “Even after all the fun times... still tight as a damn virgin...” Jerome said with that grin and Bruce whimpered as he felt the third finger be added. He could still feel the stretch of his hole, and he hated how good it felt when Jerome’s fingers found his sweet spot. 

His body felt like it was overheating, but in a good way. The water cascaded down his body, keeping him wet and it felt good against his skin, and he choked out a moan as he felt Jerome relentlessly jabbing at his sweet spot. “Please, Jeremiah...” he whined out as the cock ring prevented him from orgasming. He heard the sound of something clicking and sobbed with relief as he felt the cock ring come off. Within mere minutes, maybe even seconds, he was shooting his load down Jeremiah’s throat, and Jeremiah looked pleased and made a moan of approval as he swallowed every drop. 

Bruce was sure he would’ve collapsed if Jerome wasn’t holding him up. “Learn your lesson?” Jeremiah asked as he pulled away from Bruce’s cock. Bruce could only nod. ”When you’re asked a question, you’re supposed to answer,” he cried as Jerome pet his hair. “Yes,” he croaked out. 

He felt lips against his own and knew they were Jeremiah’s. He gasped into the kiss when he felt Jeremiah’s hands on the back of his thighs and he hoisted him up. Instinctively, purely out of self-preservation and not because he trusted Jeremiah(Bruce told himself), he wrapped his legs around Jeremiah’s waist and his arms grabbed onto Jerome’s biceps. He whimpered as he felt that blunt head against this entrance. "Jeremiah...” Bruce whimpered as Jeremiah pushed his cock into Bruce’s already sore entrance. “Hush, Brucie,” Jerome whispered in his ear as Jeremiah began to fuck into him. 

Jeremiah had been slow and sensual that first time, but this was a punishing pace. A quick fuck. Bruce cried as he felt Jeremiah hitting his sweet spot, the green-haired man venting out his stress into Bruce’s body. Pleasure coursed through his veins and his cock swelled with heat as it regained hardness. The only relief Bruce had was that he didn’t have to beg to cum, especially with Jerome being the one to stroke him into completion, and Jeremiah followed not long after. 

Like a ragdoll, Bruce was maneuvered to where he was resting on his knees while Jeremiah was leaning against the shower wall, in an upright sitting position, and his cock still buried deep inside of Bruce, who simply leaned into Jeremiah’s arms. He felt another blunt head touching his outer rim and whimpered as Jerome’s breath ghosted over his ear. “My turn.” 


	8. Stuck Between Part 6: Jeremiah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wants clothes but has to do something in order to get them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thanks to everyone whose left a comment and a kudos and whose read this story at all. Requests are always appreciated

Bruce sighed as he sat on the same bed Jerome had...  _ taken  _ him in. He felt stupid for not being able to use that word but it sounded strange to his own ears, especially to know that it had happened to him. Jeremiah had made him put ice on the ankle, assuring him that it wasn’t broken, and promised to bring him clothes. Bruce felt annoyed with the entire thing.

He’d almost gotten away but Jerome had caught him, and over a stupid tree root. Despite having taken two showers, he felt dirty because he could still feel the kisses, sucks, licks, bites, and touches of the twins on his body and he hated to say that he felt empty without Jerome or Jeremiah inside of him. Did that make him crazy?

The door opened, revealing Jeremiah with that little purple box again and the collar. “I thought you said you’d bring me some clothes,” Bruce said quietly. The jacket had been left in the bathroom and would probably be tossed away. Jeremiah simply smiled at him as he sat on the bed and Bruce resisted the urge to scoot away, knowing it wouldn’t end well.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked quietly.  ”Because , Bruce, I love you,” that sounded ridiculous to Bruce and clearly he was staring as Jeremiah frowned. “You might think that makes me sound insane, but it’s how I feel. I feel connected to you in a way that nobody else will understand, and clearly you’re having a hard time understanding it but I know that in time you will,” he smiled again as he handed him the box.

Seeing no other options, Bruce opened it, though he blinked when he saw what was inside and his cheeks flushed with color when he realized what it was. Having underwear wasn’t the problem. Having  _ women’s  _ underwear was. They were simple panties that were made of silk and they were purple, but there was a lacy green lining and a simple, tiny little green bow on the front of the panties. “I’m not wearing these,” Bruce said instantly.

“You could always go naked if you prefer, but I, on the other hand, prefer it if other people didn’t see what isn’t theirs,” Bruce was shaking now out of embarrassment and anger. “They’re women’s underwear,” he pointed out.  ”So ? People usually say certain clothes make people look good, I think you make the clothes look good,” Jeremiah said and Bruce would’ve felt flattered by the compliment under any other circumstance.

“What did you do with my clothes?” he asked. “Jerome made a big deal out of keeping that stupid turtleneck. It’s in the laundry now,” Jeremiah said simply as he ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair despite him wearing the gloves again. “Why won’t you let me go?” Bruce asked quietly.

“Because, selfish as it may be, I want you all to myself. I don’t want to have to share you, Bruce,” Jeremiah said as though it were simple and Bruce should understand that already. “I’ll bring you more clothes under one condition,” Jeremiah offered and Bruce dreaded what he wanted. “Only if they actually cover more and aren’t women’s clothes,” Bruce said instantly and Jeremiah nodded, an amused smile on his painted lips. “Kiss me,” Jeremiah said.

Bruce flinched. The only reason he had initiated the kiss with Jeremiah was to try and get on his good side and cause discord between the siblings and that hadn’t worked. Now Jeremiah was trying to get him to willingly kiss him in exchange for actual clothing... well, it wasn’t really willingly, was it? He wanted clothing and not to be seen by everyone. Was that so wrong? A cruel little voice in his head said that it was, and he ignored it.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Jeremiah’s before pulling away, shame written on his face and Jeremiah chuckled. “That’s not what I meant, Bruce. You know what I want,” he said and Bruce would’ve whined that he didn’t care but leaned forward again and pressed their lips together again. He felt Jeremiah’s tongue against his lips and hated himself for willingly opening his mouth and letting Jeremiah’s tongue inside rather than having Jeremiah take advantage of his awkward state.

Jeremiah made a pleased sound as he carded his fingers through Bruce’s hair and tugged slightly. It was oddly pleasant and Bruce almost wanted him to do it again. His arm wrapped around Bruce’s waist and pulled the teen into him, their chests pressing together as Jeremiah dominated the kiss and Bruce had no other options but to respond back. Jeremiah loomed over him, pressing Bruce’s head against the pillows and sighed into the kiss as he pulled away. He was smiling. “You’ll learn,” he said as he stroked his thumb over Bruce’s cheek. “I’m not a pet,” Bruce muttered and Jeremiah’s smile simply grew.

He was still smiling as he kissed Bruce again. “Put them on, I want to see them,” Bruce’s face was hot as he stared at the panties. “You said you’d get me different clothes...” he said quietly. “Yes, and I will, as soon as you put them on. You can have clothes that will cover them, but I want those on you,” Bruce hated this and he hesitantly grabbed them, staring at them as though they were about to attack him. Mindful of the ankle, he slid the panties on, hating himself for liking how they felt and hating himself for actually doing it. Then again, he’d either be naked in front of everyone and he’d rather not do that, or Jeremiah would force them on Bruce himself.

Bruce carefully lifted his bottom to pull them on and they fit snugly, as though they were actually his size and he didn’t want to think about how Jeremiah might actually know his size. “Good boy, Bruce,” Jeremiah said, pleased and content, as he opened up the collar. On the outside it said  _ Property of Jeremiah Valeska _ , but now it had a little golden tag on it that was engraved with fine calligraphy;  _ Bruce Wayne _ .  Underneath his name was three simple words;  _ Prince of Gotham _ . “Not a pet,” Bruce muttered as Jeremiah put the collar on him and fastened it. It felt strange and he wondered if this was how dogs and cats felt after being collared, like a prisoner. It didn’t chafe against his skin, but he could feel it there, like a tight scarf but made of leather instead of wool or cotton.

“Beautiful,” Jeremiah said, his voice nearing a purr and Bruce flushed. He didn’t  _ feel  _ beautiful. “You’re crazy,” Bruce muttered and Jeremiah simply chuckled. “One person’s craziness is another person’s reality,” Jeremiah said as he stood up. “Where are you going?” Bruce asked instantly. “Getting you those clothes,” Jeremiah said before walking out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him and he knew the sound of locks clicking all too well.

He sighed as he thought about what he was going to do next. He’d have to try and escape during the daytime, but he’d have to gain both Jerome and Jeremiah’s trust first and he was afraid on what he would have to do to do that.  _ Consensual sex. _ Was all his brain could think of. How could he willingly participate in those actions though? Both twins made him feel so good, but it was wrong how they went about it and they were both mentally ill and belonged in  Arkham Asylum.

When the door opened it was Jeremiah again, and he had a bag filled with clothes. Bruce tried to reach out for them but he held it out of his reach. “Trust is a complex thing, Bruce,” something bad was going to happen, Bruce could feel it. “Once you have it, it means so much to a person. Once you break a person’s trust and lose it, it can be a pain in the ass to get it back,” Jeremiah was one to talk about inflicting pain into someone’s ass. “These can be yours, Bruce, but you have to do something for me,” Jeremiah said as he sat on the bed, resting his back against  hte headboard. “What?” Bruce asked feebly, dreading the answer.

Jeremiah simply smiled and patted his lap. Bruce hesitantly crawled towards him and tried to sit on his lap but Jeremiah shook his head. “Close, but no cigar,” Jeremiah said with a chuckle. Jeremiah lifted a finger and rubbed it along Bruce’s lips. “I believe I’ve done it to you twice,” but he didn’t want Bruce to sit on his lap. What did— _ Oh _ .

Bruce’s eyes widened and Jeremiah grinned. “I can’t...” he whimpered. “That’s alright,” Jeremiah grabbed the bag from the floor. “I’m sure one of Jerome’s people would like them—” Bruce felt his eyes growing hot with unshed tears as he grabbed Jeremiahs’ wrist. “Can... can you...” he was choking on his words. “Help you?” Bruce only nodded. Jeremiah smiled, looking pleased at the reaction.  ”Your hands, Bruce. You need your hands. Unless you can get it open with your tongue,” Bruce sincerely doubted that, especially since Jeremiah was wearing a belt.

Shaking hands reached for Jeremiah’s belt and fumbled around to get it undone. It took an entire minute to do so and Bruce was breathing heavily. He dreaded how he watched his hands undo Jeremiah’s button and pull the zipper down, revealing black boxers underneath his pants. “I can’t...” Bruce whimpered as tears threatened to fall.

“Shh, just take your hand,” Jeremiah’s hand curled around Bruce’s wrist and guided his hand to the tent in Jeremiah’s boxers. “Reach in,” Bruce felt sick as his fingers went into Jeremiah’s boxers and he felt the heat from Jeremiah’s cock. “Pull it out,” his words were like an echo in his head, distant even though he was right in front of him and Bruce pulled it out.

“Would you like some lubricant?” Jeremiah asked and Bruce shook his head rapidly, dread gnawing at his gut like a dog would do to a bone.  ”It’s okay, Bruce,” nothing about this was okay.  ”Your lips,” Jeremiah urged and Bruce cried as he lowered his head downwards, opening his mouth.

Jeremiah groaned with pleasure as he felt the softness of Bruce’s lips against the head of his cock and then the warm, wetness of his mouth. “That’s it...” he groaned as Bruce only managed to get the head into his mouth. Bruce flinched and his body shook with sobs as he tasted the bitterness of pre-cum and it began to fill his mouth. “Deeper,” Jeremiah groaned and Bruce tried to hollow his cheeks like he saw Jeremiah do, and he was only able to get it halfway in before it hit the back of his throat, startling his gag-reflex, making him choke and tears poured out of his eyes.

Spit made its way past Bruce’s lips and down the rest of Jeremiah’s cock as Bruce simply sat there. “Use your tongue, love,” there was that word again but Bruce simply obeyed orders, his mind going into what felt like a shutdown mode and he let Jeremiah take the reins. He hesitantly ran his tongue along the bottom of Jeremiah’s cock and he groaned as a response.

A gloved hand found Bruce’s hair and tugged on it. It was still pleasant in an odd sort of way and Bruce whimpered as his mouth felt unnaturally full. “C’mon... c’mon...” Jeremiah urged and Bruce began to bring his head up and lowered it back down, like he saw and felt Jeremiah do, and he moved his tongue along the bottom and swirled it around the head of Jeremiah’s cock when he got there.

Whether or not it was Jeremiah’s first blowjob, Bruce didn’t know, but he knew he was making a lot of noises out of pleasure. “Deeper...” Jeremiah groaned and Bruce barely had time to react before his head was shoved down all the way and he choked a bit when his lips met the base of Jeremiah’s cock. He quickly tried to breathe through his nose and shook with fear and shame. “Well, that’s hot,” he sobbed when he heard Jerome’s voice.

“Go... away...” Jeremiah groaned out. “Why do that? I just had dinner and now I’m getting a free show,” Jerome said with a small laugh and that’s when the smell of food hit Bruce’s nose. It smelled like meat most of all and he heard his stomach grumble. “Someone’s hungry,” Jerome commented as he put the tray of food he’d brought up for Bruce on the bedside table and leaned against the wall, watching with that same smile.

Bruce wanted the clothes and the food most of all, and tried to go faster, even though it was choking him slightly. He felt Jeremiah’s cock twitch in his mouth and almost choked up when he felt and tasted Jeremiahs’ release in his mouth. He tried to pull away but Jeremiah wouldn’t let him.  ”Swallow ,” he groaned out.

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Bruce did, the bitter taste of Jeremiah’s release staying on his tongue. He pulled away, ashamed of what he had done, and he put Jeremiah’s cock back into his pants, hating himself. “Damn, I would’ve preferred he went naked,” Bruce’s body trembled at Jerome’s words. “Can I have the clothes now?” Bruce asked and Jeremiah handed him the bag.

He almost wanted to scream at them when he saw the shorts inside, if you could even call them that. They were tiny and looked like they would barely just cover his ass. One side was blue while the other was red and then he saw the t-shirt. He pulled it out and it was white with a red top and there were two red stripes on both sleeves and it read:  _ Daddy’s Lil’ Monster _ and Bruce glowered at that.

There was a black belt with gold studs and a gold diamond on the front, black tights, golden wrist bracelets with spikes on them, some gloves that were red with a bit of blue and the wrists were black, there was a pair of black tights and there was a large hole on the thighs of each leg, one on the outer side and the other on the inner thigh, and then there was a jacket that was red on one side and blue on the other with a red and white striped bottom and red and white striped wrists.

On the back of the jacket it read, in large gold letters;  _ Property of the  _ _ Valeskas _ . Bruce was mostly surprised at the fact that they would share that, unless Jerome was the one who got the jacket instead of Jeremiah, but neither really liked to share what they had, which apparently included Bruce. “Pants?” Bruce croaked out.

Jeremiah simply picked up the shorts and raised an eyebrow, as if challenging him. Bruce immediately understood. If he wanted more, he would have to give more. He shook his head and took the shorts, hating himself as he dressed himself. The only upsides were that the shirt and jacket covered his top half and the shorts covered the panties. “Are those really necessary?” Jeremiah asked as Bruce picked up the bracelets. “I thought they looked cool,” Jerome said with a small shrug and Bruce put them down, making Jerome pout.

He felt so strange. Jeremiah wanted him to wear the tights too, and he felt like he was wearing women’s clothing. “Beautiful,” Jeremiah said with a small smile and Bruce hated that smile. “Gorgeous,” Jerome added, grinning. Bruce felt neither beautiful nor gorgeous. He felt like he had committed a horrible crime, even if it meant being clothed. “I liked the suit we got him, but this does have good quality,” Jeremiah said. “Daddy’s Lil’ Monster is the perfect look,” it was like some creepy form of a modeling contest and Bruce was the model. “Well, up and at ‘ em , Brucie. Got a big day ahead of us,” Jerome said with a grin and Bruce dreaded what that meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- How was it?


	9. Stuck Between Part 7: Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is almost hurt by Jerome's people. Valuable lessons are learned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- For danhuashayu and Cracktrash.

Bruce almost cried when Jeremiah said he’d show him around the mansion, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that there were a bunch of Jerome’s people, former inmates at  Arkham , including the one Bruce had hit over the head with the bottle of soap in the bathroom, and they were clearly staring at him and the twins. He felt like a sample under a microscope and his face burned with shame. He’d at least been given shoes, black on the sides and white in the middle and on the bottom, like tennis shoes, but they stopped at the middle of his shins, and he hated it.

He felt like a painted whore, even though he wasn't actually wearing makeup. Jeremiah had also been adamant about putting the cock ring back onto Bruce, even though they weren’t currently... playing with him. “You wouldn’t want to risk being naughty, would you?” Jeremiah had asked him and Bruce hated himself for agreeing, even if it was only to please Jeremiah.

If anyone were to say to Gordon or Alfred that Bruce Wayne was willingly wearing panties and tiny shorts and a cock ring, all from the Valeska twins, Bruce would probably rather die than live with the shame and humiliation, even though both Jeremiah and Jerome were saying that he looked beautiful and gorgeous. He didn’t feel like it.

He felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die rather than let anyone see him, and Ecco, Jeremiah’s right hand woman, didn’t look impressed when she saw Jeremiah’s arm around Bruce’s shoulders. Bruce didn’t see what she had to be jealous of, he’d much rather be at home than be beside either twin, Jeremiah especially after what he’d made him do just so he could have some semblance of decency.

But isn’t it more indecent to know that you put Jeremiah in your mouth? Willingly? That evil little voice in his head taunted. It was either that or be naked. Sometimes pride doesn’t matter. Bruce tried to tell himself. But you can still taste Jeremiah even though you ate actual food. Bruce hated everything about this as he was led to Jeremiah’s study, which had a large mahogany desk, paintings of flowers on the walls, and there were two windows on either sides of the large leather armchair that sat behind the desk. Jerome was sitting on the leather couch in the corner, and Bruce was sitting on his lap, while Jeremiah discussed his plans for Gotham City being rebuilt in his image with Ecco and a few of Jerome’s cronies.

He couldn’t help but notice the tender smile that Ecco had when she was being addressed by Jeremiah, and he knew she was hopelessly dedicated to him and even had some form of admiration for Jerome as well. Bruce thought she was insane, just like the twins. His cheeks would flush with scarlet colored embarrassment when he caught the female inmates staring at him curiously and the male inmates staring at him with barely concealed lust and Bruce figured the only reason, they hadn’t tried to do those things to him like Jerome and Jeremiah had already done, was because he was on Jerome’s lap and the redhead was petting his hair with the other arm around his waist.

“The only real problematic ones are  Jimbo and Sidekick and the faithful butler,” Ecco said and Bruce jerked in Jerome’s arms, though the redhead didn’t let him go. “I see,” clearly Jeremiah was annoyed at that and Bruce almost felt happy because of it.  ”The kitty cat also plans on helping them in finding Jerome’s pet,” one of the other inmates added quite unhelpfully. “My what?” Jerome asked. “Your pet,” the inmate clarified. “You’re mistaken,” Jeremiah interrupted.

”Bruce is  my  pet,” he said in a hard voice and Bruce saw Ecco glare at him. He returned it and she scowled at him. “Brucie’s my baby boy,” Jerome said with a grin at the fear Jeremiah was striking into the inmate. “You are dismissed,” Jeremiah waved his hand dismissively. The inmate that had spoken turned to leave, but Jeremiah stopped him.  ”Except for you. I believe it’s time you learn some manners when speaking about  my  pet,” the fear on the inmate’s face was genuine and Bruce almost felt guilty, but he couldn’t help but still feel bitter about the pet comment.

Bruce hated how other people now knew about it. He figured already that they would know that the  Valeskas had him, but now they thought he was some sexual conquest for the twins' insatiable appetites. “Ecco,” the blonde perked up excitedly when Jeremiah addressed her. “Be a dear and show Bruce the mansion, will you?” she nodded, though Bruce saw an envious glimmer in her eyes as she grabbed by the arm, her nails digging into the jacket and clutching him in a vicelike grip, as she practically ripped him from Jerome’s lap. He hated to say that he’d almost rather stay with Jerome, where he was at least safe from the hungry eyes of the other inmates, even if he wasn’t safe from Jerome himself.

“Let go,” he yanked his arm out of her grip when she finally dragged him out of the study and into a large dining room where a gigantic table of fine oak sat, at least a dozen matching chairs around it, and there were a few vases with flowers in them. He massaged his arm, glaring at her. “How does it feel?” he couldn’t help but ask, hating this entire situation. She didn’t answer, she only glared at him.

“Doing whatever Jeremiah says as though you’re no more than a lapdog?” he spat. He felt angry at how he was being treated. Like a sexual plaything by the twins, seen as a pet by the inmates, and God only knew how Alfred, Gordon, Bullock, and Selina would react, along with the rest Gotham City if they knew what had happened. He could see the newspaper headlines now;  **Billionaire Orphan Child Bruce Wayne Kidnapped and Sexually Assaulted by the Valeska Brothers**. Then it would go into graphic detail about how some people considered him a pet and tried to say he enjoyed it and others would say what a poor, unfortunate child he was and quite possibly describe him as a whore.

He could imagine Selina’s face if she were to find out. Shock and maybe even horror, before it contorted into betrayal and disgust. Alfred’s face did the same thing. Then Gordon’s. Then Bullock’s, and Bruce wanted to take that anger out on the first person he could. So why not Ecco? If she was so fanatically devoted to Jeremiah, hopefully that meant she couldn’t kill him or even hurt him. “If I’m the lapdog, don’t forget what you are,” she said in an icy voice. 

Bruce laughed humorlessly. “You think I wanted this? I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. I didn’t ask for them to break into my house. I didn’t ask to be sexually assaulted in my own home and bed. You can have Jeremiah!” he said angrily, yelling now. She glared at him as the doors to the dining room opened and Bruce’s dread grew when he saw there were four male inmates, and their leader was the one he had hit over the head. 

“Boss wants to see you,” the inmate said in a gruff voice, and even though he was talking to Ecco, Bruce couldn’t help but intrude. “Tell your boss to stick it up your ass,” Bruce spat. The inmate glared at him. “You think you’re some tough little shit, don’t you? Think you’re untouchable just because you’re _Jeremiah’s_ whore?” Ecco sucked in an angry breath and Bruce’s hands, now balled into fists, began to shake. He wasn’t some whore. Jerome and Jeremiah made him do those things. Excuse him for trying to survive this hellhole.

“Get outta here, Ecco, unless you wanna join in,” Bruce’s entire body began to shake. Did they really think they could pass him around like some kind of cheap whore? “Don’t make me vomit,” Ecco retorted and Bruce glared at her, though she easily returned it. ”Get lost,” Ecco said as she made a grab for Bruce’s arm again, but he jerked away from her. “All of you can just go to hell!” he yelled angrily. 

The inmate moved before he could even shove Ecco away. White formed in Bruce’s eyes as his ears began to ring when he felt the inmate’s fist collide with his cheek, knocking him down. He was sure he fell down and he could barely make out the sound of arguing voices. He tried to stand and was kicked in the side, which made him roll on the floor as he coughed. Two giant hands grabbed him by the arms and held them behind his back. He began to struggle, hyperventilating now. 

 _Not again! Not again!_ He internally pleaded as his vision cleared and he saw the inmate approaching him. The other two were fighting Ecco, getting punched in the face and even when they punched her back it looked like she was enjoying it as it barely fazed her. “Stop!” he screamed as the inmate grabbed his leg. “Shut up, you’re a slut and you know it,” he kicked the inmate in the face, somewhat enjoying the pained cry he made as blood poured from the nose that was probably broken now. 

Bruce had the wind knocked out of him when he was slammed against the table. The second man held his arms above his head with one hand and grabbed his face with the other, his palm touching Bruce’s chin. Bruce tried to kick at the man he’d kicked and strong hands gripped his inner thighs, shoving them apart. ”You’re gonna hold still, and take it like the whore you are,” he began to cry and scream as he thrashed in the firm grips.

It was like being taken by Jeremiah and Jerome for that first time all over again, but rougher and they wouldn’t care if he orgasmed or not. Jeremiah and Jerome were both insane, but they did care for Bruce in their own strange way. These people were going to brutally rape him and he tried to scream but that same hand gripping his face gripped tighter and Bruce knew he would have bruises afterwards. 

Ecco snapped the neck of one of the men she was fighting and Bruce was almost grateful for her presence, but the fourth slammed her into the bookcase and knocked over the expensive looking China that sat on it. She retaliated by smashing it over his head. Bruce genuinely wondered where these people got their endurance from. It barely even fazed him. 

Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he felt the inmate’s hand run over the front of the tiny shorts, his fingers fumbling with the button. A sudden gunshot made everyone freeze and Bruce watched the inmate that was still fighting Ecco, go down on the floor, blood pouring from a giant hole in his head. There was just one problem. Ecco didn’t have a gun in her hand. 

They all looked to the doors and Bruce saw that Jeremiah was the one who fired the gun and he grimaced when he saw Jerome twirling that same revolver he’d used on Bruce in the woods in his hand, a few other inmates standing behind them, awaiting orders. Ecco smiled lovingly at Jeremiah and Bruce was almost sick. “This is usually the part where you--” Jerome pointed the gun at the inmate between Bruce’s legs, making the inmate flinch. “--say this isn’t what it looks like,” he finished, his finger on the trigger. 

“You know. For such a large place, the walls really are paper thin,” there was a look of hurt on Jeremiah’s face and it was directed to Bruce, who realized that Jeremiah had heard what he said. That meant Jerome had probably heard it as well, and it wouldn’t end well for Bruce. With his luck, he’d probably end up facing another round of Jerome and Jeremiah... playing with him instead of getting a bullet between his own eyes. He almost envied the two dead inmates on the floor.

“Ecco, dear. I’m grateful to have you looking after Bruce,” Ecco’s eyes held a mix of emotions. Gratitude and love, but that same jealousy was still there. “Nobody touches my pet, but me,” Jeremiah said in a cold voice as his green eyes landed on the inmate who visibly paled as he moved away from Bruce and the second inmate let his hands and face go. 

Bruce screamed when two gunshots rang out at the same time. Both inmates fell to the ground, each one with a bullet hole in their eyes from a different gun. “Dispose of those. Or better yet, hang them somewhere in Gotham City. Leave a message in their bodies. Nobody touches the Prince of Gotham,” Ecco nodded and the inmates moved to drag the bodies out of the room, the door shutting with an audible slamming sound and Bruce was alone with the twins. 

“That hurts, Brucie. It really does,” Jerome said as he walked around the table, heading for the side where the inmate had held down Bruce’s legs while Jeremiah went to the side where his hands had been held down. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry...” Bruce said, crying and shaking. “You seem to like that word. Sorry,” Jeremiah said as he put a gloved hand on Bruce’s cheek, the feeling of leather almost comforting and Bruce hated that. 

“You can say sorry all you want, but you never really are sorry, are you?” Jeremiah asked softly. Bruce quietly cried as Jerome gently pulled on his legs and Jeremiah stood to the side of Bruce’s head. They were laying him down and he didn’t like where it was going. “You have to prove you’re sorry, Bruce. You have to accept your punishment, and give a little in return,” Jeremiah said softly.

He was crying. He was crying so much even though it was bordering silent with how quiet he was. Would Gordon be able to find him? He hoped so, or he hoped that if the twins took him back to Gotham City, and he was sure they would, that he would be able to get away. Bruce was genuinely afraid of what he would have to do to gain their trust and how deep he would have to go before he would be able to climb back out, and even then, he was scared because he wasn’t sure if he would really be able to climb back out of this dark, abysmal hole. Nobody would look at him the same again if they ever found out. He was a victim. Not a hero. Heroes didn’t give pleasure to the villains, even if it was to save themselves. 

“You know what to do, Bruce,” Jeremiah said softly and with shaking hands, Bruce undid his belt and button before pulling down the zipper. He flinched when he felt Jerome’s fingers undoing the button on the shorts. This was his punishment. He knew that. He had to earn their trust, Jeremiah’s especially. Jeremiah stepped closer to him once his cock was out of his pants and Bruce hesitantly stared at it when he felt his own zipper being pulled down. 

“Bruce,” the warning tone in Jeremiah’s voice was all he needed as his mind seemed to shut itself down and its only instinct was to do what it had to so that he would survive. It could be worse. Bruce told himself. The twins could hurt him as they took him. They could even let the other inmates have their way with him in front of each other, like he was some kind of whore. It was almost endearing on how Jeremiah and Jerome didn’t like to share, and they barely liked sharing with each other as it was. 

He licked his lips and put them on the tip of Jeremiah’s cock and as Jerome lifted Bruce’s legs, put his ankles over his shoulders, and pulled the shorts down just far enough so Jerome would have enough space to fuck him. Jerome took his time, for once, as he entered Bruce, though Bruce figured it was because he skipped the stretching part. It slightly burned as he felt himself being stretched, even though Jerome had taken him so many times in only a span of at least three days. Who would’ve thought that all this insanity could happen in just three days? 

Bruce realized the shorts also held his thighs together somewhat, and as they were made of leather and didn’t stretch much, he felt as though he was tied down. He tentatively swirled his tongue around the head of Jeremiahs’ cock and he groaned in response, enjoying it. “You know what to do, Bruce,” Jeremiah groaned out as one of his hands gripped Bruce’s hair. Bruce gagged a little when he swallowed Jeremiah more. Soon the entire thing was in his mouth and Bruce hated that he was able to do it easier the second time, mostly because he had done something like this at all. 

He ran his tongue along the bottom of Jeremiah’s cock and tried to bob his head willingly, and Jeremiah’s grip on his hair actually didn’t help. Jeremiah wasn’t guiding him through it this time. He was making Bruce do it on his own. Bruce cried out when he felt Jerome’s pace going faster, his sweet spot being abused deliciously and Bruce hated how his cock filled and grew hard. He was sure the panties were going to be stained and hoped Jeremiah wouldn’t blame him for it. 

Jerome was fast paced and rough and Bruce hated how he loved the feeling. He felt full in both ways and it was a wonderful feeling, but a dreadful emotion. He was crying as he slobbered all over Jeremiah’s cock, having to do the work himself instead of Jeremiah gently guiding him through it. There wasn’t even some kind of reward after this, only Jeremiah’s trust in him growing and it was probably going to be a very slow process. 

Jerome was grunting with the pace he was giving Bruce, and Bruce felt his cock peeking out of the panties, pre-cum painting his stomach as he tasted Jeremiah’s. _Wanna_ _..._ _wanna_ _cum..._ Bruce thought and clearly his eyes showed something, as Jeremiah began running his thumb along Bruce’s jaw. His body felt so hot and so good as Jerome thrust in and out, but it was that same feeling of an approaching orgasm and unable to finish. It hurt. “That’s your punishment, Bruce,” his eyes widened with horror at the idea.

Was he not going to be allowed to cum? They were going to make him feel this way, and not let him finish? He cried harder. “You’ll come, after Jerome,” Jerome was always quick and Bruce had the faintest bit of hope. “And,” there it was. “After me,” that meant Bruce would have to work harder. 

He hated himself for willingly trying harder, he didn’t even mean to lightly scrape his teeth along Jeremiah’s cock but the groan he received was pleasured, not pained. He moved his tongue and tried to suck on it like a lollipop and Jeremiah was enjoying himself. He moaned at the feeling of Jerome filling him up, heat flooding inside of him and he hated how good it felt. “You’ve ruined your underwear,” Jeremiah said with a small chuckle as he thrust into Bruce’s mouth, making the teen choke a little as it hit the back of his throat. 

Bruce tried to tell himself that it was better this way to get it over and done with than procrastinate it and draw it out. He gave Jeremiah a long and definitely hard suck and heat was flooding into his mouth, definitely choking him, and he knew he swallowed a lot of it and the rest dribbled onto his lips and chin. 

Jeremiah pulled himself out and put himself back into his pants before sweeping his thumb over Bruce’s lips and chin and making him lick Jeremiah’s release from his thumb. “Have you learned your lesson?” Jeremiah asked and Bruce nodded. Jeremiah’s eyes hardened and Bruce realized his mistake. “Yes,” he whispered feebly. “Yes, what, Bruce?” Jeremiah asked. 

“Daddy?” he asked more than he said. “No,” Jeremiah said in a hard voice as Jerome pulled out. Bruce wasn’t sure what to call him. “You’re my pet, Bruce. What is a person in the eyes of a pet?” Bruce’s eyes widened. He couldn't’ say it. He couldn’t. A tight grip on his cock made him rethink that. “Master?” he cried out. ”Good boy,” Jeremiah all but purred out as Jerome undid the cock ring. Bruce sobbed as he orgasmed minutes later, Jerome’s hand stroking him to completion and he watched the redhead lick away his essence. 

Jerome began cleaning him up and pulling his shorts back up while Jeremiah whispered sweet nothings into his ear. Bruce couldn’t help but feel as though he had committed a horrible crime and sinned so horribly. He felt as though there was a special place in Hell for him, and the twins would be there with him once he got there. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the club scene from Suicide Squad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I read another fic that had the same plot, basing it from the club scene from Suicide Squad, but I thought, instead of Jeremiah, why not Jerome? Is it just me or would Jerome match the Leto Joker better than Jeremiah? Idk, opinions are valued ;)  
> \- For obvious reasons, Bruce is OOC

“We finally meet,” a hand extended to greet the pale man in the dark purple suit, his hands resting on a gold cane. “The boss doesn’t shake hands,” a blonde-haired woman with a painted face says, standing behind the man with the disfigured face. “Sit, have a drink,” she gestured with her head for Monster T to sit across from the one and only Jerome Valeska. “Hey, J, welcome back. I wanted to come by and personally say thank you,” Jerome pays him no attention as he instead watched the stage where a young man in a gold dress with black spaghetti straps, tight on his body, with white face paint pushed another dancer seductively against the wall. The dress barely covered his ass. “You’re making me good money. I’m making you good money,” Jerome rolled his eyes at the Monster T’s words. “Are you sweeting talking me?” a light, gravelly chuckle escapes his lips as he grins, stretching out his disfigured skin. “I love this guy, he’s so intense,” he smirks lightly. 

Monster T turned his head towards the stage where the young man was dancing on the pole. He would admit that the man was quite attractive and downright sexy if not quite young, but that wasn’t the oddity of the situation. He recognized him to be Bruce Wayne, billionaire son of the Wayne Foundation. Story has it that that ever since meeting the infamous Jerome Valeska, the kid had never been the same. For the longest time he had been declared missing and presumed dead. Clearly that wasn’t the case. 

After Jerome had built up his criminally insane empire, he would be later known as Mr. J, the most powerful person in Gotham these days and definitely the most mentally unstable. The GCPD never stood a chance. He could also see that the relationship between Wayne and Jerome was unlike any other. Anyone who got a close enough look could see the lust in both Jerome’s eyes and pants, and the obsession that followed the lust. 

Jerome glared at Monster T as the focus turned to Bruce, who was clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, there he is,” Jerome whispers, gesturing to the stage while maintaining that grin that gave people nightmares to this day. “The fire of my loins,” Jerome stood to his feet, direction towards the stage. “The itch in my crotch,” his grin managed to grow ear to ear. “The one, the only, the infamous, Brucie!” 

His eyes are on the young dancer, his gaze now turning soft, but somehow even more hungry. Like a starving man who just found himself a five-course meal. Jerome whistled and Bruce’s attention was turned to him. The Monster T’s entire demeanor changed quickly to anxious as he downs his drink. “Oh, come to daddy,” Jerome said and Bruce practically skipped to the table, a feral grin on his face that matches Jerome’s almost scarily. “J,” he giggles and Jerome patted his shoulder as he lowered his face to Bruce’s, nearing his ear. “Listen, you are now my gift to this,” he gestured to Monster T, “Handsome Hunka-Hunka,” he chuckles. “You belong to him now,” Jerome guided the boy forward lightly as T’s face paled. Anyone could, would, and should expect these kinds of twisted games from the Clown King and Prince of Gotham. 

Bruce sat on his lap, startling Monster T, reaching his arms around his shoulders with a predatory smirk. Immediately he recognized the hard gleam in Jerome’s eyes, knowing that this wouldn’t end well. For him at least. “Look, I don’t want no beef,” he pleaded carefully. ”Oh, you don’t want no beef?” Jerome asked. “You don’t want no beef?” he repeated, mockingly. “Why, what’s wrong? You don’t like me? Fine. Don’t waste my time then,” Bruce said, pouting. “This is your boy,” he tried to say. “Look, are you enjoying yourself?” Jerome asked, a gun somehow manifesting out of nowhere. “No. That’s your boy, Jerome,” he tried and Jerome grinned. “That’s right,” 

 **BANG**. 

Bruce giggled as he moved from the now dead guest’s lap to Jerome’s, the blonde woman moving to move the body and dispose of it. “You cock tease,” Jerome purred as Bruce pressed their lips together. “You like it,” Bruce said as he moved his hips in sync with Jerome’s, grinding their erections together, though only one of them was actually clothed. “Naughty boy, you’re not even wearing underwear,” Jerome growled out. Bruce simply giggled in response as he carded his fingers through Jerome’s spiked hair and undid his button with the other hand, rather skillfully. 

He lowered his body to the floor, getting on his knees and licking his lips before pulling Jerome’s zipper down with his teeth. “Fuckin’ tease,” Jerome grinned as Bruce pulled his cock from his pants. “You’re one to talk about no underwear,” Bruce smirked as he ran his tongue from the base to the top, swirling his tongue around the tip. Jerome groaned in response as he threaded his fingers through Bruce’s hair and the tug was not gentle. 

With practiced and skilled ease, Bruce fit it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and moaning appreciatively around it. He bobbed his head up and down and ran his tongue along the underside of Jerome’s cock. The moans of appreciation and approval spurned him on and pre-cum dribbled onto the floor from Bruce’s own weeping cock when he wrapped his hand around it, stroking himself in rhythm to him sucking on Jerome’s cock, slightly choking a bit when it hit the back of his throat. 

Bruce whimpered as he felt himself approaching orgasm, the tightening feeling of the impending release coiling in his belly. He looked up to Jerome with those dark brown, puppy dog eyes that he knew the redhead couldn’t resist. ”Damn tease,” he grinned around Jerome’s cock as he gasped, spit dribbling down Jerome’s cock as Bruce came on himself, soiling mostly his own hand. Jerome gripped his hair with both hands as he shot his load down Bruce’s throat and the younger man swallowed every drop with relish. “Thank you, Daddy,” Bruce said after pulling off of Jerome’s cock. “What did I say about talking with your mouth full?” Jerome asked before slamming their lips together and Bruce giggled into the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Also, yeah, I looked up the guy's name


	11. Stuck Between Part 8: Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce takes a shower and thinks about things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A very special chapter for the Stuck Between series ;)

Bruce sighed as the water ran down his body, his third shower in the mansion and at least this time the twins left him alone and there were no bodyguards at the door, though it was most likely locked. He thought about everything that had happened in the past three, maybe four, days and grimaced. His home had been invaded, he had been sexually assaulted(though that mean little voice in his head kept saying that he would’ve indeed fought back more if it was an assault), he had been kidnapped, assaulted again many times, tried to escape, got caught and had a gun inside of him in a sexual manner, was forced to give Jeremiah a blowjob or go naked, wore women’s underwear and a collar and skanky shorts, was almost raped, watched his almost-rapists get shot, and was _assaulted_ again and had given Jeremiah another blowjob to _earn forgiveness_. 

At this point he couldn’t understand how he felt. He felt so dirty despite being physically clean. Their touches ghosted over his skin, the bruises and love bites clear as ever, and he felt himself growing hard and hated himself for it. He knew he would never be able to come back from this. How he begged them to let him cum, sucked Jeremiah off twice for clothing and forgiveness, and he actually felt safer with them than he did with their henchmen, except maybe Ecco and that was only just because of her devotion to Jeremiah and her respect for Jerome. If given the opportunity, Ecco could easily kill him at any time and make it look like an accident or someone else did it, even if that meant going against Jeremiah’s orders. 

It felt so strange to know that he had been saved by his actual... by the twins who stole his virginity from almost rapists. He hated the idea of being referred to as Jerome’s baby boy and Jeremiah’s pet, and hated that Jerome got off on being called Daddy and Jeremiah Master, but he wanted to survive and go home, even if that meant burying the trauma in his subconscious or finding a way to give himself amnesia. The hardness between his legs was growing hard to ignore. 

Bruce thought about how Ecco had said that Alfred, Gordon, and Bullock were most likely problematic, which meant they were looking for Bruce, and the inmate said that a kitty cat, which he assumed was Selina, was also helping them when looking for him. He whimpered as he felt Jerome’s rough touches and Jeremiah’s soft ones against his skin even though they weren’t in the bathroom. His cock was swelling almost painfully and pre-cum leaked from the tip and was washed away by the water. He tried not to think about how much he wanted to be touched more. The twins had ruined him. Bruce could tell. He’d never be able to have sex with someone and not think about how the twins had dominated him. 

He tried to think about Selina, trying to be the typical teenage boy who masturbated to the girls they thought were pretty, but the twins kept popping into his mind. Even though Jerome’s face was permanently disfigured, he had a rough voice that was oddly hot when it was next to his ear and he was so rough. Bruce laid on the floor, whimpering as he leaned against the wall. He didn’t even realize he was stroking himself as he thought about the twins. Jeremiah’s face, although pale from the Laughing Gas, was attractive. Bruce moaned out loud when he thought about how the pale skin, bright green eyes, green hair and colorful suits were actually really hot to him. 

His cock started to throb. Was he allowed to cum? Jeremiah and Jerome didn’t know... Jerome wouldn’t care either way, but Jeremiah would. He could picture it now and it felt like Jeremiah was actually right next to him, whispering sweet words in his ears while Jerome’s hand played with him rather than it being Bruce’s own hand. He felt fingers prodding his entrance, but they weren’t the twins he was imagining or even the real twins. They were his own. He winced at the slight pain from the awkward angle as he lifted his leg up and pushed his fingers in. 

Bruce was panting heavily and was sure he was sweating and the hot water made it feel so good... _There you go Brucie._ He imagined Jerome saying. _Deeper, Bruce._ From Jeremiah. He moaned wantonly as he felt his fingers stretching himself. He could feel Jerome’s fingers playing with his nipples as Jeremiah sucked on his thighs, their hands roaming over his skin. He added a third finger and cried out with pleasure as he struck his own sweet spot. He kept hitting that place, moaning wantonly and whorishly. His toes curled against the floor of the shower as he stroked himself, whimpering and whining. “Jerome...” he moaned as he felt Jerome’s rough grip holding him in place. “Jeremiah...” he whimpered when he felt those gloved hands on him. 

 _So hot..._ Bruce thought as he kept hitting his sweet spot, curling his fingers to reach it and he was moaning, over and over. His body felt like it was overheating and he was enjoying it. His ears burned as his stomach clenched as his orgasm approached. 

“Wanna... cum...” he moaned out. _Let him cum, you sadist._ Jerome said in his ear. _You just want to fuck him._ Jeremiah’s voice echoed in his mind. _Cum, Bruce._ He did. He practically screamed out his orgasm that splattered all over the shower floor and it was washing away by the shower. Bruce’s cheeks grew hot when he realized what he had done. He masturbated, willingly and even anally, to the idea of the Valeska twins fucking him. He cried as pulled his fingers out, wishing the water could wash away the pleasure and the memories. 

He couldn’t even really say pain, because the entire time, even that first night, neither Jerome or Jeremiah hurt him. In the past, Jerome had physically hurt him, but neither had really hurt him. That first night... Bruce really couldn’t remember if it was forced or not. He hadn’t fought back as much as he should’ve, and while he could’ve blamed it on the surprise of the twins being in his house and because they wanted him sexually, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. All he could keep thinking about was; _You just fantasized about the twins, and got off from it._ He cried. He cried and cried. 


	12. Stuck Between Part 9: Jeremiah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Jeremiah have dinner, but there are some expectations...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- For danhuashayu's request  
> \- Tried both at the same time. Also if the dirty talk sucked, sorry lol  
> \- Not sure how many more parts of Stuck Between there will be. Hoping for more  
> \- Also a lot of dialogue, then smut

After Bruce’s Shower of Shame, which he dubbed it, Jeremiah walked in and Bruce couldn’t even bring himself to cover his body. What was the point? Both brothers had already seen him naked multiple times. “Ecco washed your clothes. You were in there a long time,” Jeremiah said with a small chuckle as he handed Bruce the same clothes and he frowned when he saw the same tiny shorts. He noticed Jeremiah either didn’t have the ring on him, or he was waiting to put it on. He tried to pull on the panties, noticing that this time they were red with black lining and there were three black diamonds on the right side, nearing the hip, but Jeremiah stopped him. Jeremiah reached into his purple jacket and pulled a little black box out and Bruce felt like crying again. No present from Jeremiah was ever good. “You know how some people say that size doesn’t matter?” Bruce nodded at the question and Jeremiah’s eyes hardened. “Yes, Master,” he croaked and Jeremiah smiled. “In this case, the size really won’t be what you’re going to learn about,” Bruce hesitantly opened the box and stared at what was inside with confusion.

It was a fairly small, somewhat curved... miniature... penis? “You have no idea how adorable confusion looks on you,” he flushed at the words and watched Jeremiah take the item out of the box, that same small grin on his painted lips. “Turn around, Bruce,” shaking, Bruce did as he was told, and hissed with surprised shock when he felt Jeremiah’s gloved fingers against his rim, but they were cold. He whined at the feeling and Jeremiah chuckled at that. “I told Jerome to get the warm kind,” Bruce didn’t care who made the mistake, it was  cold . “Though I’m pretty sure he said it’s flavored,” was that supposed to make it better?

Those fingers stretched him out and he whimpered when he felt something going inside of him, but it wasn’t Jeremiah’s cock.  ”It’s called a vibrator, Bruce. I think you know what it’s going to do,” Bruce’s eyes widened at the idea. It was a sex toy, obviously, and Jeremiah was right. It wasn’t the size that mattered, it was the length. Once it was all in, Bruce could feel it brush against his sweet spot and he gasped at the feeling. “Consider this your lesson in learning control. If you can’t control yourself, I’ll be bringing out the ring. If you can’t control yourself even then, I’ll be getting you a cage,” that was what Jerome had been talking about and Bruce began to cry again. “You cry so beautifully,” Jeremiah whispered softly once the entire vibrator was in. “What do you mean... control?” Bruce croaked out. “I mean, you are not allowed to orgasm until you are told to. And Jerome is not your Master, I am.”

Bruce hated the feeling of the vibrator brushing against him as Jeremiah turned him around and pulled the panties up his legs, securing them on his hips. The tights and the shorts quickly followed. Alfred would never forgive him. Gordon wouldn't, Bullock wouldn’t, and Selina wouldn’t. Nobody would ever look at him the same way again, and while he was getting better at lying, he couldn't lie to Alfred to save his own life, and he didn’t doubt that Jeremiah would probably use this as blackmail and Jerome would feel inclined to tell everybody who would listen. He couldn’t blame it all on the twins. He was helping them by not fighting it, he knew that. Nobody would look at him the same again, they’d say things about how he let to twins have their way with him, multiple times, even though he tried to run away and it only resulted in him getting caught. At this point, Bruce figured he too belonged in  Arkham Asylum, even if that meant still being stuck with Jerome and Jeremiah.

Jeremiah helped him dress and wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Bruce resented the fact that he enjoyed the comfort it brought him. Was he also insane to say that he would prefer to be stuck with the twins? At least nobody here would look at him with pity, anger, betrayal, or disgust. Ecco didn’t like him, but that was only because she was in love with  Jeremiah even though that didn’t make much sense. She was so devoted to him that she’d tolerate knowing he was having _sex_ , Bruce couldn’t keep calling it playing but didn’t want to think about the other term he’d otherwise use, with someone else, a boy of all things. The other inmates probably didn’t care as they were loyal to Jerome, and the four that had been killed by Ecco, Jerome, and Jeremiah were just thinking he was a quick and easy fuck, and the leader was already pissed at Bruce. He just couldn’t imagine going back to the loving and understanding and patient faces of Gordon, Bullock, maybe Selina, and definitely not Alfred. If anyone found out about it... wouldn’t they say that he was asking for it? That he wanted it? He felt like he would be locked up in  Arkham instead of being allowed to go home.

“We’ll be dining together tonight, of course,” Jeremiah said and Bruce stopped. He looked up to him, fear in his eyes.  ”I don’t want to,” Bruce whimpered. “Why ever not? Aren’t you hungry? You can’t expect to be served in bed every day,” he shook his head rapidly. “Bruce, there’s not much of a choice here. It’s either dine with me, or Jerome has you, and I really don’t feel like sharing right now,” Bruce felt like crying but no tears fell. “I’m not ashamed of our connection, Bruce. I’m not ashamed of us. And you shouldn’t be either,” Jeremiah whispered softly in his ear. “You took me against my will...” in two ways.  ”I never wanted to hurt you, Bruce. Understand that. I just... couldn’t resist when I saw you that first night,” Jeremiah pressed his chin to the top of Bruce’s head, his arms wrapped around Bruce’s waist from behind, pulling him to Jeremiah’s chest. “What we’re doing is what’s best for Gotham,” Bruce scoffed at that. “Murdering innocent people?” he demanded. “Nobody is innocent, Bruce. Not me, not Jerome, not even Ecco, and definitely not you,” Bruce stiffened. “You think I couldn’t hear you? I was standing right outside the door. Understand that I love you in a way nobody else will understand and as much as it pains me to say this, so does Jerome. Whether we are connected by hatred or love, we are connected regardless. I don’t really believe in prophets but Ra’s said you’d rise up to be the protector of Gotham City. Of course, he told me that whatever I did would push you into being said protector, except for one thing. To show how I truly feel. This is it,” Bruce was crying now. His eyes stung and felt hot as tears poured down his cheeks. “You might think yourself above us insane people, but aren’t you just like us? Don’t you feel the same way?” he asked.

“It’s not okay. You’re sick, Jeremiah. It’s... it’s a bodily reaction... I don’t feel anything... you mean nothing to me,” Bruce tried to say but Jeremiah simply ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair. “You are trying to understand madness with logic. This is not unlike searching for darkness with a torch,” Jeremiah said softly. “I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched,” Bruce ignored the quote and looked down at his feet. “It’s not  love ,” Bruce denied. “Perhaps, not yet, for you, but for myself and Jerome? It is,” Jeremiah said. “Bruce, do you really think you can ever go back to the way things were?” Bruce froze. Jeremiah was digging right into Bruce’s biggest weak point, and both of them knew it. “You can blame me and Jerome all you want, but you know the truth. Bodily reaction or not, you’ll be having dreams of it for years to come if you walk out those doors and do go back to your faithful butler. Selina will never be enough for you. She would never understand either. They’ll look at you like a victim and pity you, and that won’t be what you want. And, Stockholm Syndrome or not, Gordon and Bullock wouldn’t hesitate to throw you in  Arkham Asylum if they thought for one second you were the slightest bit out their range of normalcy or posed some kind of threat to their precious city.”

Bruce cried, knowing Jeremiah was right. Even if it was really their faults, Bruce would never properly recover from this. There wasn’t even such a thing as a proper recovery. Bruce wasn’t sure which of the five stages of grief he could even put himself in at the moment. He was trying to deny that he had a craving for the twins in a sexual manner, he was angry about the entire ordeal, he’d give almost anything to be able to go back to the way things were before that first night or be allowed to die instead, but he wasn’t really depressed, and he felt like giving in and accepting it. “I’m not even trying to emotionally manipulate you. I’m telling you the truth, and you know it,” Bruce did. “You’re going to hurt innocent people... Gotham doesn’t deserve this...” Bruce whispered brokenly. “Nobody is innocent, Bruce,” Jeremiah repeated. “Somehow in some way, someone has hurt somebody, whether it be intentionally or unintentionally, they have. They also go on their merry little ways about it and don’t consider the fact that they have hurt somebody so deeply and scarred them so horribly,” Jeremiah said. 

“Are you going to kill Jerome?” Bruce asked. “Why would I do that? He’s useful,” Jeremiah said. “You hate him and you hate sharing. You also hate that he stole my virginity,” Bruce said. “I do. Our relationship is complicated even though we’re twins, which is supposed to be the closest of siblings, since apparently twins share a soul,” Jeremiah chuckled bitterly. “And yes, I hate sharing. I hate him, but I would miss him in my own strange way if he were to die. We’ve come to an agreement, him and I. I suppose the one thing that could keep us sane would be you, at least when it comes to hating each other. Does that make sense?” Jeremiah asked. 

In the craziest way, it somewhat did, and Bruce was afraid on how much he understood Jeremiah’s logic. He and Jerome hated each other, but they couldn’t live without each other, and regardless of whether or not Jerome died, Jeremiah would live with Jerome’s memory, and vice versa. It was the same as how Bruce would live with both of their memories attached to him. He would never be able to live without the twins, either one of them, and he’d never forget either one of them either. He’d die, thinking about them. “I don’t know if it’d ever be possible for you to love me in return, but isn't that what hope is all about?” Jeremiah asked.

It was twisted, mad, delusional, but it made sense, and Bruce understood it as he hated it and feared it. “Time for dinner, Bruce,” Jeremiah said with a sigh at Bruce’s silence. ”Who is it?” he asked feebly. “Only you and me,” there was no escaping this, was there? ”Why? I don’t want in on what you’re going to do to Gotham,” Bruce murmured. “Perhaps not, but you will. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you will,” Jeremiah ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair. “Time for dinner.” 

Dinner consisted of steak and potatoes, broccoli and cottage cheese, and a lot of other foods that smelled and looked delicious and while Bruce was indeed hungry, he didn’t really want to eat. Jeremiah pulled Bruce’s chair out for him and Bruce jolted when he sat down, the vibrator pushing into his sweet spot and he felt himself grow hard almost instantly. He flushed at that and it darkened when he saw the tent forming in the front of the shorts. “Remember, Bruce. Control,” Jeremiah chuckled lowly in his ear as he pushed Bruce’s chair in for him and promptly sat down next to him as the inmates served them dinner. Bruce was about to lift the fork to his mouth, a piece of meat on the end, when he felt it and he swore he could _hear_ it. 

Even though it was low, Bruce could feel it. He dropped the fork on his plate and gripped the sides of the chair, his eyes wide, his face flushed, and he pressed his knees together and tried to stand up. “Sit down, Bruce,” he almost yelled at Jeremiah to go to hell but resisted, just barely. He tried to use his feet to keep his bottom up so that the chair didn’t make it worse, but that made him clench on it and the vibrations coursed through his body, shaking him to his core, and he could feel the wetness forming on the front of the panties. “What are you doing?” Bruce demanded once the inmates walked out of the room. “I’m not doing anything,” as if to prove his point, Jeremiah held up his empty hands. ”There’s some kind of remote... isn’t there?” the shorts felt horribly constricting and sweat formed on his temples and on the back of his neck as he felt everything the vibrator was doing.

Jeremiah simply smiled as he took a drink of his red wine. “Of course, love,” there was that pet name again. “Please stop...” Bruce begged. “Mm,” was all Jeremiah said as he took another drink and reached into his pocket, pulling out a little black remote with a dial on it. Instead of turning it off, like Bruce had hoped, he flicked it up and Bruce sobbed as the vibration increased. His body was quickly heating up and his toes curled inside of his shoes and he gripped the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Please...!” he begged. “You haven’t finished your meal, Bruce. It’d be quite rude and insulting,” Jeremiah said as he took another bite of his steak. 

Bruce’s insides felt like they were vibrating and his hand was shaking as he grabbed the fork. Jeremiah simply watched him with something akin to fascination and definitely lust as Bruce tried to eat, but the tightness of the shorts made it worse. He felt pre-cum dribbling down his thighs and staining the shorts and the tights. He had finished the steak and started on the potatoes when Jeremiah turned the dial up again and he couldn’t do it. “Please...” he begged. ”Remember, Bruce, you’re not allowed to cum until I say,” Jeremiah reminded him and he sobbed. His cock was throbbing in the shorts. “Please... let me... c-cum...” Bruce begged. “What will you do for me?” Jeremiah asked. _What?_

“W-what?” Bruce asked with wide eyes, his hips jerking forward slightly without him even meaning to. ”I’m asking you, what will you do to me, if I let you cum?” Jeremiah asked, circling his finger around the rim of his glass. “W-what do you mean?” Bruce whimpered as the vibrations increased again, his thighs quivering as he felt his loins tightening. “Jer-Jeremi--” he sobbed when they slowed down. “Patience, Bruce,” Jeremiah grinned. “What do you want?” Bruce cried. “Dirty talk can be quite fun, Bruce. If you know the right words, and where to apply the right amount of--” he trailed off, his thumb hovering over the dial, that sadistic grin on his face. “ _Pressure_.”

The vibrations increased again and Bruce sobbed. “What do you want me to say?” he moaned out, his mind hazy as he jerked his hips, his cock aching and throbbing. Jeremiah stood up. “What do you want me to do to you, Bruce?” Jeremiah asked as he lowered himself onto his knees in front of Bruce’s chair, his gloved hands massaging Bruce’s thighs tenderly. ”Let me cum...” Bruce begged. ”What did you imagine in the shower? What was I doing to you?” Bruce cried as he told him. ”I wanted you to fuck me... t-to... t-to play with me... fuck me until I can’t cum anymore...” he hated telling Jeremiah the truth, but he really wanted to cum. There was a large tent in Jeremiah’s pants now and he was pressing soft kisses along the insides of Bruce’s thighs. “How would I fuck you, Bruce?” he asked in a low voice. 

“In the shower... on the bed... holding me down... calling me a good boy...” Bruce was shaking with each word. “Filling me up...” Bruce’s face was surely on fire as Jeremiah undid the button on the shorts and pulled the zipper down and Bruce felt relief when he pulled his cock out. “And what would you call me, Bruce?” Jeremiah asked as he licked his lips. “Master...” Bruce moaned out as Jeremiah’s hand wrapped around his cock. “And what would you say to me?” Bruce thrust his hips into Jeremiah’s hand and Jeremiah pressed his arm against Bruce’s stomach to keep him in place. “Fuck me... Master... please...” Jeremiah wrapped his lips around Bruce’s cock and Bruce moaned whorishly at the feeling. 

Hot. Wet. Jeremiah’s tongue swirled around the head, slightly licking at the slit, and he swallowed him with ease. His tongue ran over the underside and over a vein and Bruce sobbed at the feeling, putty in Jeremiah’s hands. “Please... let me cum...” he was going for broke now, the vibrator’s ministrations like a heavenly torture on him as Jeremiah increased it further. “Master... please let me cum... I want you... w-want... want your... c-cock...” Bruce stuttered out. Jeremiah hummed, pleased, and Bruce jerked against the feeling. Bruce didn’t know what it was, but he couldn’t cum even though he wasn’t wearing the ring and he really wanted to. He realized, with a pleasured sort of horror, that he was waiting for Jeremiah to tell him that he could. He moaned out a sob at the thought. 

Jeremiah pulled off for a moment, but still stroked Bruce. “Cum, Bruce,” he ordered and swallowed him back down and Bruce did. His hips stuttered and jerked and he thrust into Jeremiah’s mouth, said Valeska swallowing each and every drop without even getting spit on himself. 

Bruce whimpered as the vibrator continued humming against his sweet spot and sighed with relief as Jeremiah turned it off. ”Good boy, Bruce,” Bruce promised himself he would never admit how good he felt after hearing those words, how it made him feel warm inside and like he had done something really good. He promised himself.


	13. Stuck Between Part 10: Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is in denial, runs away, only to come to the painful realization that he can't run from the truth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- For Cracktrash's request with the mirror and Phantomgirl96's support  
> \- Major psychosis feels, then love-making  
> \- Better ending though, I think?

Bruce had never hated himself more than he did at that moment. Jeremiah had brought him a change of underwear, this time being green with purple lining, but refused to bring him new pants. He thought about taking off the jacket and wrapping it around himself, but he wasn’t sure how Jeremiah would feel about that. The tights were gone as well  and thankfully so was the vibrator  and he sighed as Ecco led him around the mansion, warning him about secret passageways that he could easily get lost in. Apparently, Jeremiah had some big meeting with  Cobblepot and Kean and wouldn’t be back for a while, and all he knew about Jerome’s whereabouts was that he was blowing something up or was planning on it. Neither sounded good to Bruce’s ears, knowing someone would get hurt.

He looked at Ecco with teary eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she turned to him, an unimpressed glower in her eyes. “That’s none of your business,” she said coldly. “Why... why do you follow Jeremiah, even after everything he’s done?” a strange expression flashed in her eyes as she looked him up and down. “He opened my eyes, Bruce. I don’t fear death anymore because of him. I owe him my life,” she said. “But... if you’re so in love with him... why do you...  tolerate ...  this ?” she stared at him. “Because Jeremiah does love you. And  so does Jerome. You might think us crazy, but you’re just like us.  Jimbo and Sidekick would lock you up in  Arkham if they found out about all this. First, they’ll call you a victim, and then once you can’t control yourself, bye-bye Brucie,” he winced at the nickname she used. “How can you call that love? They... they...  raped  me...” he started to cry again and she looked uncomfortable. “Maybe they went about it the wrong way, maybe not, but they do love you in their own way,” she put a hand on his shoulder, startling him. “And if Jeremiah loves you, that’s all I need. I wouldn’t have snapped the neck of one of Jerome’s people otherwise,” he stared at her. “But it doesn’t make any sense...” he murmured. “It’s insane... mad... not love...” Bruce muttered. “There is always a bit of madness in love, but insanity always contains a bit of common sense. Do you hate them?” she asked.

He did. In a way, he did, but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t live without them. “Yes,” he said it so quietly, he wasn’t really sure he said it at all. “I hate them...” he knew he did. He could never love them, not if he was truly sane rather than insane. “I’m not like you. I’m nothing like you,” anger was flickering in her eyes again. “Be quiet, Bruce,” she said in a hard voice. “No! I’m not insane! I’m not a _rapist_! This is insane! You’re all insane! I’d rather be locked up in Arkham than be around any of you! I hate all of you!” he yelled. She lifted her hand, as though about to strike him, but froze and Bruce could only do the same, seeing the look of intense fear in her eyes as she stared behind him.

Bruce didn’t know or care which twin it was, he did the first thing he thought of, grateful this time for being more clothed, and shoved past Ecco, nearly knocking her down, as he ran for it. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he thought of everyone who would never look at him the same way again, how Jeremiah and Jerome were convinced that they loved him, and the first thing he planned on doing once he got out was going back to the GCPD and telling Gordon what happened and to throw the twins into Arkham. He couldn’t look Alfred or Selina in the eye ever again, knowing everything that had happened. Not Alfred especially.

He broke one of the dining room windows and climbed out, ignoring Ecco’s yelling voice for him to come back. The sun was bright and birds chirped merrily in the trees as he took off running, pulling the jacket off and wrapping it around his bottom half with the sleeves. He wasn’t insane. He hated the twins. He didn’t love them. They were only hideous scars he would be forced to live with for the rest of his life. That was all they were to him, right? He hated himself for not knowing for sure, trying to deny any possibility that he actually cared for the twins despite everything they had done to him and Gotham City in the past.

For how long he ran, he didn’t know. He fell to his knees, sobbing as he wrapped his arms around himself. It seemed like the world hated him. Ra’s was wrong when he said Bruce would one day be Gotham’s protector, he was wrong. Bruce wasn’t a hero. Gotham had no heroes. It was a dirty city with a dirty police department, even with Detective Gordon, and he knew it. He knew it. That naive child that believed in the good in the world died a long time ago, in an alley when he was twelve years old. 

Tears dripped onto the grass and dirty leaves as he sniffled. He whimpered as he gripped his biceps. He must’ve looked deranged to the outside eye, he knew he had to. He knew life would never be the same, and he was delusional if he ever believed it could be. He’d never forget, even if he zapped his brain hundreds of times over. Jeremiah and Jerome loved him in their own insane way, and he hated them for it. They made him do all those things. He would’ve suffered more if he hadn’t obeyed Jeremiah’s orders. 

 _You asked... no, no..._ **_begged_ ** _him to let you cum. Both of them._ That evil voice in his head reminded him. “Shut up,” he muttered, feeling as though the world was shaking around him. _Only_ **_insane_ ** _sluts ask for something like that._ The evil voice taunted. “Shut up!” Bruce screamed. A madman, that’s all anyone else would see him as if they saw him right now. Alfred probably wouldn’t even recognize him. Bruce felt sick as he thought about his parents. They would hate him. They would be disgusted and ashamed to call him their son.

 _No... no..._ a second voice in his head comforted him. _They loved you. They died to protect you. It’s the twins’ fault._ The voice said. Bruce froze and stiffened when he heard twigs snapping. He prayed to whatever God there was that it was a deer, or hell, Gordon, but it wasn’t. It was Jeremiah in a purple suit with a dark green undershirt, a large purple jacket on his shoulders, and Jerome right behind him. 

Bruce whimpered as they came closer, though their stance was anything but threatening, it was comforting, almost protective and nurturing. “Shh,” Bruce shook his head as they got down onto their knees on each side of him, wrapping their arms around Bruce’s shoulders and pulling him close in a group hug. Bruce hated to say that the hug was comforting, both voices now silent. “I’m sorry...” Bruce murmured as he laid his head into Jeremiah’s chest. Neither said anything, Jeremiah began rocking back and forth, cradling Bruce lovingly while Jerome ran his fingers through the teen’s dark hair. “Do you want to see what you look like?” Jeremiah asked softly as they lifted Bruce to his feet, their arms never moving from Bruce’s shoulders. Bruce hadn’t looked in the mirror once in the entire time he was stuck with the twins. He was too afraid to, as he was scared of what he would see. Jeremiah took off his purple jacket and put it around Bruce, who refused to admit that it brought comfort to him as it seemed to swallow him completely. He gripped it with tight fingers, pulling it closer around himself. 

They led him back to the mansion and Jeremiah waved Ecco away and the blonde nodded, giving Bruce a measured stare before retreating down one of the opposite corridors. Bruce couldn’t speak, couldn’t really think, as they led him into the bathroom, the same one that they’d taken him in and that Bruce masturbated in. They showed him the mirror and Bruce saw himself. He looked like shit and felt like it too.

His hair was disheveled, both from running and Jerome’s petting, his eyes were pink, glassy, and red rimmed, his cheeks were blotchy and red, and his lips were swollen. He looked like a skank in the clothes, even with the jacket wrapped around his lower half and Jeremiah’s large purple jacket around him. “I want you to watch, Bruce,” Jeremiah whispered softly as he ran his fingers along Bruce’s neck, trailing down to his chest, down his stomach, and to the top of the panties and Bruce whimpered. ”You see yourself? Nobody in Gotham City appreciates you. Not in the way I do,” Jeremiah murmured softly. “Everyone has a darkness, Bruce. Especially in people who don’t look like they do, it just takes one bad day for it to come out. I wasn’t even the start of yours, Bruce. It was that night, wasn’t it? That night in the alley,” Jerome said in a surprisingly quiet voice and Bruce knew it was true and he nodded, his lip quivering as more tears fell. “You understand now, don’t you? Hate us now, all you please, but nothing is going to change. Without me, you’re a joke... without a punchline,” there was a sadness to Jeremiah’s eyes as Jerome reached into Bruce’s underwear. “They would never understand Bruce, not in the way I do. I appreciate you.” 

It was scary on how much Bruce understood his words and Bruce felt himself giving in. He couldn’t keep fighting. He could try and run, Jerome would catch him. He could try and fight, Jeremiah would punish him. Nobody would ever understand.  

That gloved hand wrapped around his cock and Bruce whimpered at the feeling. He closed his eyes and heard Jeremiah sigh. “ _Look_ , Bruce,” Jerome said and he reopened his eyes and saw himself standing in front of Jerome, Jeremiah on his side. The mirror was tall enough that he could see just below his thighs, so he could see Jerome’s hand in the underwear, the bulge being his hand around Bruce’s cock. His cock began to fill as Jerome kept stroking him, twisting his wrist slightly and the gloves added to the friction. 

Pre-cum was staining the underwear, soaking through and it leaked down his quivering thighs. He craved the touch. He craved it so badly that it hurt. He whimpered as Jerome’s thumb ran over the head of his cock and it began to throb with a painful ache that would never go away. Jerome then carefully leaned him over the sink, Jeremiah pulling the underwear down to his thighs, pulling his cock out and baring his bottom. Jerome undid his pants and Bruce cried and gripped the sides of the sink as the head of Jerome’s cock pushed against his rim, and he could feel himself preparing for the penetration. His back still arched and he moaned through his tears as Jerome filled him with his cock. “Daddy...” he moaned out. “M-Master...” he cried. “That’s it, Bruce...” Jeremiah whispered as he helped Jerome to hold Bruce’s legs up, pulling him away from the sink.

The angle was somewhat awkward as Bruce felt Jerome’s entire cock inside his body, both of the redhead’s hands gripping his inner thighs and holding him up. Instinctively, Bruce reached backwards and tried to grip Jerome’s shoulder as Jeremiah got to his knees and Bruce could see it all in the mirror. He threw his head back against Jerome’s shoulder and moaned as the hot wetness of Jeremiah’s mouth enveloped his swollen cock and Jerome thrust right into his sweet spot, making him weak in the knees and moan wantonly. As always, Jeremiah swallowed Bruce with ease and didn’t seem to mind the bitter taste of Bruce’s pre-cum. 

Bruce might have finally admitted that he felt right when he was between the two of them. In their own sick, twisted way, they cared about him. In their own demented, twisted way, they _loved_ him. While Bruce was unsure if he would ever be able to love them back, like Jeremiah wanted and Jerome probably did too, he knew he felt comfort when he was with them, especially both of them. “I’m sorry...” Bruce murmured and Jerome sighed softly in his ear, Bruce watching it all in the mirror. In his mind he could see that he belonged between them. The mirror was the truth in that. He could run all he wanted, but he couldn't run from the truth. “It’s okay, Brucie,” the redhead whispered in his gravelly voice and Bruce turned his head, eyes teary and staring straight into Jerome’s as he willingly initiated such a small but impacting act at that moment. He pressed his lips to Jerome’s. 

The redhead smiled into the kiss as he let go of one of Bruce’s legs, though Jeremiah quickly held it up, and he put his hand on Bruce’s cheek, stroking his thumb over Bruce’s temple and deepening the kiss. Tongue and all. Bruce moaned into the kiss as he felt his belly tightening and his cock hardening further. “Jeremiah-- _Master_...” Jeremiah hummed around his cock, evidently pleased. “Please, let me cum,” and he did. 

Jeremiah hollowed out his cheeks, ran his tongue along Bruce’s cock, and gave it a hard suck and Bruce moaned as his hips jerked forward and he shot his load down Jeremiah’s wanting and waiting throat, every drop going down easily. Jerome's release soon filled him up, Bruce's clenching like Heaven and Bruce moaned at the feeling as Jeremiah pulled off, kissing the head of Bruce’s cock and standing. Bruce leaned forward and willingly pressed his lips against Jeremiah’s and he could tell Jeremiah was happy. Jerome pressed tender kisses along his neck and shoulder as Jeremiah held Bruce’s face with each hand, deepening their kiss and happily moaning when Bruce’s tongue came out to play. It was at that moment that Bruce knew what he was going to say before he even said it. In the mirror, he watched his lips move as he said those unforgettable words. “Master... Daddy... Please... make love... to me...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope it was good  
> \- There might be at least two more pieces of the main story of Stuck Between. Requests for one-shots for the story are welcome though, I might do a second piece for it


	14. Stuck Between Part 11: Gordon, Alfred, Selina, Harvey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detectives Gordon and Bullock, Alfred Pennyworth, and Selina Kyle reflect on the past three months since Bruce was kidnapped...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- No smut, mostly plot and how the four reacted to Bruce's disappearance

Three months. That’s how long Bruce Wayne had been missing. He’d been declared dead by the GCPD, much to Alfred Pennyworth’s devastation. The poor old bastard refused to give up, and blamed Gordon and Bullock for not trying harder to find Bruce. When Gordon had gotten the call that someone had broken into Wayne Manor, he feared the worst. When he saw Alfred there, beaten to a pulp but still trying to break out of his bonds, he’d dreaded what happened to the kid he remembered from that dark alley on that dark night that Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered. When he found out that it was the  Valeskas behind it, that dread grew. Jerome and Jeremiah hated each other, everyone knew that, and now that they were working together, it put the GCPD under more stress and fear spread through Gotham like wildfire. The worst part of it wasn’t even that everyone knew the twins were working together, the worst part was that nobody had heard or seen any trace of them since they abducted Bruce.

Selina Kyle also refused to believe Bruce was dead, and swore to kill Jeremiah and Jerome herself if she got the chance. Gordon wished he had hers and Alfred’s strength and stubbornness. It was almost endearing, but it was heartbreaking most of all. It didn’t help that Barbara, Ivy Pepper, and  Cobblepot had also disappeared off the GCPD’s radar, and nobody had any idea what any of them were actually planning. He knew Selina was pissed at him and Bullock and had isolated herself into a one-man search for the kid, and he could only feel empathy for the poor kid. Gotham really did bring out the worst in people, and destroyed others in the process.

Gordon wasn’t really afraid of finding out that Bruce was dead, but he was at a crossroads. Gotham was a dirty place and horribly corrupt, the kid never stood a chance. He was so naively innocent and believed in the good in the world, and was kidnapped, probably tortured, and possibly killed by the Valeska twins. The kid didn’t deserve it. If Bruce was dead, then Gordon could hold onto the pitiful idea that he was happy in some kind of Heaven somewhere with his parents. If he wasn’t, then the kid had surely been through Hell and would probably never really recover from it. He knew though that all Alfred wanted was to know what happened to the boy, and that the man was probably thinking along the same lines Gordon was. He knew Harvey believed Bruce was dead, and so did Lee. Everyone did, except Alfred and Selina.

He also knew that Bruce was just as stubborn as Selina and Alfred, probably getting it from the latter, and probably could hold a chance against whatever the twins threw at him, but he was still a kid in so many ways and could only handle so much. Despite the GCPD declaring him dead, and Harvey also giving up, Gordon didn’t. He at least needed to see a body to know and have some semblance of closure and peace with the idea that the kid was truly gone. If he was dead, then he was at some kind of peace, if he wasn’t, then he was living through Hell. Bruce was a good kid. Gordon believed that wholeheartedly.

**********

Alfred had never felt a greater depression than he had for the past three months. Not even after Thomas and Martha had been killed and right in front of their twelve-year-old son, no less. He hated the Valeska twins and wished them the most painful death imaginable and damned them to Hell for breaking into the manor and kidnapping Bruce. He didn’t even care that they damn near beat him to death, all he cared about was Bruce.

It damn near killed him to think about what the twins had done to the poor boy. He knew Bruce was strong, and stubborn as hell, but there was only so much even he could take. It had been three months. Alfred wanted to believe Bruce was alive and uninjured, but he was losing faith slowly and painfully. Three months with the  Valeskas ? If Bruce wasn’t dead, then he was surely mad. The idea of Bruce being mentally ill because of those two, and thrown into a cell in  Arkham if he was ever found, made him feel worse than the idea of Bruce being dead or scarred permanently by the kidnapping. He wished he had Selina Kyle’s strength. She was so determined to find him, it was endearing as young love always was, but young love didn’t always work out in the end. Each day Alfred was living in his own hell, wondering where Bruce was and it hurt beyond anything imaginable when the GCPD declared him dead. He knew Detective Gordon wasn’t giving up, but surely even he thought along the same lines Alfred was. Even Detective Bullock had given up on Bruce. What pained Alfred the most was that even if Bruce was alive and somehow came back, he would never be the same. None of them would be.

**********

Selina never hated the GCPD more, Gordon and Bullock especially, than when they declared Bruce to be dead after being missing for three months. She knew it was iffy in a normal case of kidnapping that the victim would most likely be dead by that time, but she knew the twins hated Bruce and would love to draw it out. She tried her best to ignore the idea of Bruce being dead,  adn tried to find him on her own through the Gotham underground, but nobody wanted to tell her anything. Ivy and Kean had disappeared, and nobody had heard anything about  Cobblepot either and nobody knew where the twins were at, and that last one was the most dreadful since Jerome Valeska enjoyed the publicity the most.

She promised herself she’d never give up on Bruce, even if it made her sound stupid and others believed she was wasting her time. She’d never admit to liking him and caring about him, but she didn’t want to see him dead or hurt either. Whether or not Bruce was entirely the same after returning from the  Valeskas didn’t matter, she just knew he was alive. She just knew it. At the same time, she felt like he wouldn’t be the same. That was what scared her the most.

**********

Harvey knew that the past three months had been hell for Jim, who was blaming himself for the kid getting kidnapped. After a month, hope was dwindling quickly. After two months, the searches stopped. After three months, Bruce Wayne was declared dead. The kid’s girlfriend and butler refused to give up on Bruce, but he could see it was eating away at the old man and killing both him and Jim. He grew to like the kid and obviously cared for him, but after three months with the  Valeskas ? Don’t make him laugh. The kid was either dead, insane, or scarred for life. It would’ve been merciful for the kid to be dead and Harvey hated himself for thinking that but it was true. If he was insane, the poor kid would be locked up in  Arkham faster than he could blink. If he was scarred for life, those scars might still have him end up in  Arkham .

The kid was stubborn as hell, but that would only take him so far against Jerome Valeska. Adding his twin, that was worse. The GCPD instead wanted them to focus on what was going on with the Gotham underground, but nobody had any answers as to where anyone was. Jim’s lady friend, Kean, was AWOL, same with  Cobblepot and not even Pepper had been seen lately. That was both a relief as it was a growing dread. Something was going on, and Harvey and the GCPD knew that, since the  Valeskas , Jerome most of all, was radio silent. Nothing good was going to come out of that, and Harvey knew that.


	15. Stuck Between Part 12: Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce, Jeremiah, and Jerome...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Should I add one last piece for everyone's reactions?  
> \- Hope this was good  
> \- The long awaited consensual love-making

Bruce sighed softly as Jeremiah laid him down onto the bed next to Jerome, crawling on top of him. Jerome was sucking and nibbling on his neck as Jeremiah pressed their lips together, swallowing Bruce’s gasps and soft moans. Strange as it may be, it felt right, and Bruce felt like he belonged right between the two of them. He tried to wrap his arms around Jeremiah’s neck but Jeremiah held one hand down, lacing their fingers together, while Jerome held onto his other wrist.

Bruce whimpered into the kiss as Jeremiah explored his mouth with his tongue. “Miah...” Bruce moaned as Jeremiah trailed his kisses down Bruce’s the other side of his neck and Jerome wrapped his arm around Bruce’s shoulders, pulling him into his chest and pressing their lips together, Jerome dominating the kiss. 

The teen gasped into Jerome’s mouth when he felt Jeremiah pulling down the underwear, everything else already discarded, and Jerome’s hand massaged his chest, fingers running over a sensitive nipple and rolling it between his fingers. He felt Jeremiah’s other hand lifting up his leg and he bucked his hips up when he felt Jeremiah’s tongue against his rim. This time, the feeling was enjoyed and _loved_. He felt Jeremiah’s tongue lick a strip up his rim before it pushed in and he moaned as he felt Jeremiah’s finger, not even gloved, pushing in with it. His cock swelled and hardened as it filled and pre-cum dribbled from the reddening tip. 

He arched his back as he felt the second and third fingers being added and threw his head back against the pillows as he felt Jeremiah’s fingers curl and jab at his sweet spot. Stars danced in his eyes as he bucked his hips and pre-cum overflowed. Jerome gripped his cock and Bruce cried out as he began stroking it, up and down, brushing his thumb over the head as Jeremiah devoured and fingered him. “Jer--” he yelped when Jerome gave his sensitive bud a hard pinch.

“Daddy...” Jerome hummed, pleased. “Master!” he cried out when felt Jeremiah give him a particularly hard jab. “P-please... l-let me cum...” Bruce begged and Jeremiah nodded and Bruce’s back arched and moaned wantonly as he painted himself and Jerome’s hand white. “So gorgeous...” Jerome purred in his ear as he licked his hand clean of Bruce’s release, making the teen flush. He jerked as he watched Jerome lick away his release from his stomach as well and whined when Jeremiah pulled his fingers out and pulled away. “Patience, Bruce,” Jeremiah chuckled, pleased, as he undid his belt. 

Jeremiah’s cock was out, not even seconds later, and Bruce spread his legs as he felt the head pushing against his wet rim. He moaned and jerked his head back and forth as he felt it entering him, torturously slow. “M-master...” he moaned out as Jeremiah filled him. Jeremiah groaned with pleasure as he bottomed out. His pace started slow and sensual, tender and loving, and Bruce cried out with delight as he began speeding up. Hard and fast. Each thrust of Jeremiah’s hips making him hit Bruce’s sweet spot dead on. Bruce’s legs were thrown over Jeremiah’s shoulders and he moaned whorishly as his sweet spot was abused, his cock refilling and hardening.

“Master... p-please... let me... c-cum...” Bruce garbled out through the heavy panting. His body was heating up, a layer of sweat coating his body as he gripped Jeremiah’s shoulder and Jerome sucked at his neck, leaving love bites and bruises for tomorrow. “Cum, Bruce,” Bruce shook his head at Jerome’s words. “Good boy, Bruce,” warmth flooded into his chest at Jeremiah’s words. ”Cum,” Jeremiah whispered in his ear and he did, arching his back, gasping and moaning out his orgasm, and he soiled himself with his release. 

Jeremiah grunted and bit down into Bruce’s neck, unintentionally drawing a bit of blood, and his hips stuttered before he slammed into Bruce one last time, filling him and Bruce moaned at the feeling of heat filling him up. Jeremiah pulled out, licked the blood away, kissed the sore spot, and rolled onto his back, wrapping an arm around Bruce’s as Jerome undid his belt and took Jeremiah’s place between Bruce’s legs. Jeremiah wrapped his arm under Bruce and pulled him close, pressing their lips together and swallowing the scream Bruce made when Jerome slammed into him with one quick thrust. 

Jerome’s pace was even faster and harsher than Jeremiah’s and Bruce _loved_ it. Jerome held his wrist down with one hand, began stroking his sensitive cock with the other, and Jeremiah gripped Bruce’s arm with one hand and splayed the other on Bruce’s lower abdomen, as though massaging him. Bruce screamed and cried and moaned and cried out Jerome’s name as he came for the third time. He fell back against the pillows and gasped as he felt Jerome filling him, heat flooding into his hole. He cried with pleasure into Jeremiah’s mouth as Jerome stroked him to completion, licking away his release moments later. “Good boy, Bruce...” Jeremiah panted out. Bruce gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as he stared at the two of them. It made perfect sense to him now. He couldn’t live without them and they couldn’t live without him, just like how they couldn’t live without each other. “I _love_ you... _both_ of you...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- If there's another piece, like everyone's reactions to Bruce's new place between the twins, then afterwards I might do just one-shots as a sequal or during three months with the twins. Requests for one-shots are appreciated


	16. Stuck Between: Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final installment of the storyline of the Stuck Between series and revelations are made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Okay so with 'making up Bruce' I figured that meant him wearing a costume? So he's all dressed up, nice and cute. Gordon, Bullock, Alfred, and definitely Selina, are 'scarred' by how much he's changed. And for Simply_logic, this is mostly Valeyne in this chapter so hope it's good. Also, this is not Selina friendly. At all. No smut in this chapter, but it is Valeyne centered. Also, apologies to Jeremiah beforehand. Also, also, thank you everyone for the wonderful comments and kudos

It was after the first explosion, somewhere on the other side of the city based on the sound, which came off as rather distant from the police department, that the TVs in the GCPD turned to static and the last person Jim Gordon wanted to see popped on the screen, that nightmarish grin still etched onto his disfigured face. “Hello, Gotham City!” Jerome Valeska cackled merrily on all of the TV screens. His fellow officers, including Harvey, as well as everyone else, civilians and judges, lawyers and prosecutors, looked at the screens with profound horror and fear.

The camera panned out to reveal Jerome, and of course Jeremiah, sitting only streets away from the GCPD on a makeshift stage, near the same place where Jerome had nearly fallen to his death, and unsurprisingly on two seats that looked look thrones. Jeremiah was on the left and Jerome on the right, and Gordon noticed a person he didn’t recognizes, male by the looks of them, sitting on Jerome’s lap but there was a collar around their neck that was connected to a leash, held by Jeremiah Valeska. The poor person looked terrified out of their wits, despite being dressed up just like the twins, but differently.

He wore a black tuxedo with a red handkerchief in the right breast pocket and a white button up underneath as well as a red bowtie, white gloves, red shoes, and his face was painted white, with black around his eyes, and red lipstick and there were red spirals, as though painted there, on the apples of his cheeks. Gordon’s heart plummeted into his stomach when he got a good look at the person’s face and he even unwittingly murmured the person’s name, “Bruce.”

Three months, nearly going on four, that was how long Bruce Wayne had been missing. He wasn’t sure if Harvey recognized the kid or not, but he knew it was Bruce. He didn’t know if Alfred or Selina were watching, but he knew it was Bruce. The poor kid’s hands were bound by shackles that had a chain in the middle, binding them together like some kind of prisoner. 

“Hello, Gotham City!” Jerome cackled merrily. “We’ve interrupted your daily programming to give you a special report. There’s a slight chance of smoky skies with the rumbling sound of explosions across the city and a possibility of nosy cops getting in the way and making things worse,” Jerome said with a laugh. “There’s also a special message directly for Detectives James Gordon and Harvey Bullock,” Jeremiah pitched in as Jerome leaned back in his seat, grinning madly. Gordon and Harvey shared a glance, one afraid and the other wary. “You’re invited, and you can bring a plus one. I’d prefer... Selina Kyle, of course,” Jeremiah said rather cheerfully and Gordon swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’re forgetting the very special guests, little J,” it was the craziest thing, literally no pun intended, to see Jeremiah and Jerome sharing a moment together. At least, for the people who thought they still hated each other, completely that is. “Edwin Jarvis--” Jeremiah chuckled at Jerome’s words. “Alfred Pennyworth,” he corrected and Gordon’s stomach was flipping itself in knots, unsure about the entire ordeal. “Aren’t you interested in seeing us again?” he asked with that grin that matched Jerome’s. “Oh, and Brucie, of course,” Jerome began petting Bruce’s hair and the teen flinched at the same time Gordon did. “You’re our plus one,” Jerome said, winking at the camera before it cut off. 

It took an entire minute for everyone to get themselves into gear, but that was only because another explosion, closer this time, went off and some people, inside and outside the building, started to scream. Not even five minutes later was the GCPD on the scene, cops on each possible exist that the twins could take. There were hostages, a lot of them, thankfully no children, but there were men and women held at gunpoint by Jerome’s cult, former inmates at Arkham Asylum, and Gordon’s heart and stomach tied themselves in knots when he saw Barbara among the group of people on the makeshift stage. She too had a gun in her hand, and didn’t look like she was there willingly or on a friendly outing. He also saw Cobblepot, Crane, and a few other goons from the Gotham underground. He felt like an idiot after not realizing it sooner. They were all in on Jeremiah and Jerome’s plans, and they had been evading police investigations for three, nearly four, months.

He saw Alfred before he saw Selina, and Harvey was shaking right beside him, both of them with their guns drawn and the safety off. “Bruce!” Alfred called out, tears in his eyes and Gordon knew exactly how he felt. “Ah, ah, ah,” Jerome pulled the teen close as he, Harvey, and the butler approached, standing in front of the crowd. Bruce‘s back was against Jerome’s chest, wrapping one arm around his waist and pulling out a revolver. He noticed a dazed look in Bruce’s eyes and wondered how many times the kid had seen the gun and he dreaded to think about what the gun had done to him. 

“So, our guests of honor have arrived. We’re going to play a little game. Kind of like good old Russian roulette, but you have to answer a few questions and answer them honestly,” Jeremiah said with a crazed grin that matched his brother’s. ”If you tell the truth, I won’t pull the trigger,” Jerome said. “But if you lie, and lying is just so naughty--” he pressed the barrel against Bruce’s head, ignoring the whimpers and screams of the hostages and Alfred. Gordon noticed Selina circling around the stage out of sight, but nobody else seemed to notice. “Oh, is Selina not in attendance? Well, alrighty then,” Jerome pulled the trigger and everyone, who wasn’t one of these madmen, flinched at the clicking sound. It was taking three male cops, way bigger than Alfred, to hold the poor man back. “That’s one down. Five more to go,” Jerome said with a grin. “Tell me, Detective Gordon--” Gordon’s hand itched to pull the trigger and hit Jerome, but so many things could go south so easily and it could cost civilians and officers their lives, as well as Bruce and Alfred. Maybe even Selina. “When and why did the Gotham City Police Department decide to stop looking for our darling Bruce?” ignoring the strange pet name, Gordon cleared his throat, though his voice was hoarse and hollow, unlike his own and he wasn’t really sure if he was the one speaking. 

“He was missing for three months. He was presumed dead,” he answered truthfully. “But you knew we were the ones who took him. Hell, Jerome did a number on the faithful butler,” Alfred glared at the green-haired twin for that. “And you knew we weren’t dead. So, did you just not look for us?” Jeremiah asked. “We... we were looking for you,” Gordon admitted, dread pooling in his gut and spreading through his veins. It was like a poison. “So, was Bruce never your priority?” Jeremiah asked. ”He was my priority,” Gordona admitted. ”But work before family, right?” Jerome challenged. “No,” the gun clicked again and people started to cry and sob. “Yes! I—I had more files coming in on why nobody had heard anything from either of you, Bar—Kean, Crane, and Cobblepot,” he admitted. “We can only assume the same for Sidekick,” Jerome said. “Mm, quite disappointing. Almost revolting,” Jeremiah added. ”Bruce, I--” Jerome clicked the gun again and Gordon felt like crying.

“Jeeves,” Jerome turned to Alfred. “Didn’t you look for Brucie? How did it feel when the GCPD declared him dead?” Jerome asked. “I tried to find any leads,” Alfred said in a thick voice. Gordon could see his eyes were red-rimmed and glassed over, the poor bastard was only seconds away from letting the tears break free. “I was livid that they declared him dead... I... I didn’t want to believe it... You... you took him... you did this...” he was shaking from his anger and Gordon put a hand on his shoulder. Alfred was relieved to see Bruce alive, but he was beyond angry and horrified to think about what the Valeskas had done to him. The poor child. He‘d suffered enough already after Thomas and Martha... and now? Alfred would do better than he had that night three months ago. He would save and protect Bruce. ”Touching display, Detective. Almost endearing,” Jeremiah said casually, as though he wasn’t twirling a leash in his fingers as he stood up. “And, in all _four_ \--” Selina was nowhere in sight as Jeremiah walked towards the front, just behind Kean and Crane, and Cobblepot was on the far side, near Jerome and Bruce. 

Jeremiah sighed before he spoke, a faint smile on his red lips. “See, a river cuts through rock, not because of its power but because if of its persistence, so what do we do when we feel like giving up?” he asked. “Dig a little deeper,” the former inmates said in unison. “What do we do when we can’t possibly go on any longer?” Gordon’s breathing hitched as Jeremiah walked behind his own seat, but that wasn’t why, it was because Selina was approaching him, a blade in her hand. “And what do we--” 

He turned as she rammed the blade into him, but Gordon almost wanted to hit her upside the head. She hit him in the gut. Not even somewhere lethal. He knew it was wrong to want a teen to kill someone, but that someone was risking more deaths of innocent bystanders and officers of the law and clearly belonged in Arkham Aslyum. Officers gasped at the event and some lowered their guns as Jerome and company turned to see what had happened. He noticed Bruce was looking antsy and he would’ve hugged the kid if he could’ve, thanking God he was alright, at least... physically. “Deep enough?” Selina asked as she looked him in the eye. Gordon hated it when teens tried to play badass rogue. He really did. “Well, Selina, I must say--” she pulled the blade out and rammed it in again... something was _wrong_...

Nobody seemed to care, not Kean, Cobblepot, Crane... he knew Jerome and Jeremiah had a complicated relationship, but nobody was reacting. He saw Jeremiah’s right-hand woman, Ecco, standing to the side, a glare in her eyes directed at Selina, but there was a small smirk that Gordon recognized well. Ecco knew something. This was _planned_. 

She kept ramming the blade in and out until he collapsed and Ecco dashed to him as she pulled a gun on Jerome. ”Well, he was always one for theatrics. Probably gonna wanna...” he grimaced. “Stitch that up, maybe get some Neosporin,” he said as he pulled the trigger two more times, each time clicking. “Let him go,” Selina ordered, aiming the gun threateningly. Jerome huffed but released Bruce and for some reason he handed Selina the key. Something was wrong... Alfred was quickly running up the steps to get up there as Selina was unlocking Bruce’s shackles and helping him to his feet. ”This really is a rather touching, very _deep_ , moment,” Jerome said with that same idle grin. “I don’t think so,” Bruce said and it was the first time Gordon, or anyone other than the Valeskas, had heard his voice in three months. It sounded the same, even as Gordon and Harvey climbed onto the stage, Kean and Crane moving to the side, and that’s when it happened... 

The sound of a blade piercing skin, again, almost made Gordon vomit when he realized what had happened. “Deep enough, Selina?”

His entire face contorted from antsy fear and teary eyes to unfocused eyes and a demented grin, worse than the Valeskas. A silver blade, deeper than Selina’s, was embedded just below her sternum. Her brown eyes were wider than anyone else’s, and he was sure a few cops gasped with horror and surprise at the same time. “Bruce...” Selina croaked, gurgling a bit of blood, but Bruce put a gloved finger to her lips, that demented grin never leaving his face as he silenced her. “You hurt my Master and threatened my Daddy, I had to punish you,” he twisted the blade and blood poured from the wound as he put a hand on her cheek, almost lovingly. This wasn't what she was expecting. She knew Bruce would be hurt, probably physically, and definitely mentally. She thought she could kill Jeremiah and maybe Jerome and save him but when she looked into his eyes she saw nothing but the coldness of a killer. The feeling of horror and betrayal was creeping up on her. She didn't realize how far gone Bruce really was. “You mean _nothing_ to me,” and with that he left the blade inside and shoved her to the ground by her head as he sat back onto Jerome’s lap and took the revolver. 

“I thought it’d make a nice touch,” Jerome said with a grin as he ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair. He was smiling lovingly now and Gordon was feeling numb all over. This is your fault. HIs inner voice said to himself. You left the kid with the Valeskas for three months. This is on you. You could’ve saved him. You made him a murderer. Selina was still alive, but if she wasn’t treated soon, she wouldn’t be for much longer. “Jimbo, Sidekick, I think It's time you leave. You know who Gotham belongs to, and also, we’ve a CEO of a certain Foundation to talk to. Some sleaze ball is trying to take Brucie’s company. Not gonna fly. Kean, all yours,” that was all Gordon heard before he was punched in the face, white flashing in his eyes and ringing echoing in his ears. 

Alfred was more horrified than anyone else after he realized what had happened. Even Harvey knew something was wrong with the kid, but he didn't think it extended this far and he knew Bruce was beyond saving. It would take years for something like that to heal, and Arkham wasn't the place. The kid they knew was gone. Alfred rushed to Selina’s aid and was going to tear Jerome Valeska a new one, but he realized whose hand was holding the blade, and the terrified expression on Bruce’s painted face was exactly that. Painted on. What was underneath that terrified facade was pure love and devotion, the same look Ecco had in her eyes when speaking about Jeremiah, and it was directed to Jerome Valeska. He’d kill them... he’d _kill_ them... He was seeing red. “Alfred...” Bruce said with a sigh, their eyes meeting. “I think I dreaded seeing you the most,” there was truth in Bruce’s words. The boy had been getting better at lying, but Alfred had always known when he was lying to him. Call it a gift, or knowing the young boy since he was in diapers, but he knew how to read people.

“I... missed you... I feared... for the longest time, that you wouldn’t survive... but... this is what Gotham needs. Not more unnecessary death, of course, but... proper care. The police can’t handle all the crime. Gotham is a dirty city, and dirty people have to be able to take care of it. The way Gotham is now, that’s on the criminals and the police. The way Gotham will be soon enough. The way Gotham will be _better_ ,” Bruce held up a little remote with a single button. ”That’s on Jeremiah and Jerome.” 

His thumb hit the button and more explosions all across the city borders went off. People screamed and ran as the officers and the inmates opened fire on each other and Alfred knew at once, but the sound of something very large falling to pieces, that the bridges that connected Gotham to the rest of the world were gone. “I do hope--” he looked to Bruce with wide eyes. He still had the face of that little boy he knew so well, but his eyes were haunted and Alfred couldn’t blame him. He had suffered, and Alfred knew it. Physically, unknown, mentally? Only God knew if Bruce would ever recover from it. Alfred didn’t have high hopes, but maybe Gordon and Bullock could find a way to get inside this supposed to plan of theirs and tear it down from the inside, but he doubted that too. 

“--that we can still be... at the very least... _friends_... I don’t want anything to happen to you. From... before... you’re all I have left,” Alfred lowered his eyes. He didn’t know how or why, whether it was protective instinct, for Bruce, or self-preservation, but he nodded slowly. “It’ll take time, obviously, but all good things come to those who wait,” Jerome chuckled. “You know, if this is how people react to you stabbing someone. What do you think this’ll do?” 

Alfred didn’t look, too busy tending to Selina and maybe purposefully ignoring it, but he could hear the wet sounds of lips meeting. He almost vomited when he realized what that meant. Bruce wasn’t physically tortured, at least not that he knew, but emotionally, mentally, and... he almost gagged... _sexually_ . “I don’t know about how other people reacted, but I know _someone_ who wants to _play_ now,” it was Bruce’s voice but Bruce would never have said something like that three months ago. “Ooh, up for a few rounds of lovin' fun times?” Jerome asked with that same grin. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I might add a second piece to this, like with a link to another story, with mostly smut probably, based on requests for certain scenarios ;)  
> \- Also, Jeremiah's totally fine. Selina, maybe not  
> \- Okay so I couldn't figure out how to upload a picture, Bruce is dressed like Billy the Puppet from the Saw Franchise  
> \- How was it?

**Author's Note:**

> \- Constructive criticism is always appreciated  
> \- So are requests  
> \- How was it?


End file.
